


Leaving Marks

by BlackCatIIIX



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jean Moreau also likes fancy hot chocolate, Jean Moreau is pretty much a walking trigger warning, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, and Jeremy Knox is a complete clutz, man these tags are depressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCatIIIX/pseuds/BlackCatIIIX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where your soulmate's injuries appear as bruises on your skin, Jeremy is... struggling. And that's even before he meets Jean Moreau.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here Lies the Abyss

Jeremy first learnt about the Marks when he was three or four.

He was sitting on the couch, watching as, before his eyes, an ugly purple mark bloomed on his arm. “Mummy! Why do I keep getting these? They’re not there, and then they are! I haven’t done nothing to get a bruise,” he pouted.

His mother looked at his proffered arm and then turns so she’s facing him on the couch. She reaches out and runs her fingers over the mark. “Darling, these marks mean that somewhere in the world you have a soulmate.”

“What does that mean?”

She paused, probably trying to find a way to explain soulmates that her young son would understand. “A soulmate is a person who is just for you. They are someone that is perfect for you and the two of you will love each other more than anyone else.”

“Is daddy your soulmate?”

His mother smiled warmly, “yes he is.”

Jeremy frowned, looking back at the mark. “But why are they only there sometimes? Does that mean my soulmate loves other people as well? And why does it hurt? Is it because I didn’t know to love them?”

His mother’s smile faded slightly, and she pulled Jeremy onto her lap, no parent likes introducing their child to the unpleasant side of the world. “It’s nothing to do with you darling boy, nothing at all. And don’t you worry, they will always love you, no matter what. You get those marks in places where your soulmate is injured. This is where your soulmate has a bruise at the moment. But it won’t always be there because your soulmate’s bruise will heal, and your mark will fade with it.”

Jeremy remembers tears collecting in his eyes at the thought of someone, especially someone who he was meant to love, being in pain. “But why?”

Jeremy’s mother paused again, in truth why you were aware of your soulmate being injured was still up for debate, but there were some popular theories. The problem was attempting to phrase any of these in a way a not to upset a small child. “It’s so you know when your soulmate is in danger and you can protect her.”

At this Jeremy perked up slightly. “I can be like one of the knights in our bedtime stories? And save the princess?”

His mother fondly patted his hair. “Yes, exactly like that! Sir Jeremy of Knox!”

* * *

Jeremy and his mother didn’t talk about his soulmate for several years after that. He started school and learnt more about soulmates and the theories behind the marks, and the more technical side of what to actually expect when your soulmate was injured--things like marks only appearing for wounds, not scars, and if your soulmates face was injured, the marks wouldn't appear on yours for some reason. Jeremy did notice, however, that sometimes his parents would stare at the marks with unreadable expressions, but he assumed they were wondering what his soulmate was like, just as he did. He was eight or nine when the issue came up with his mother again.

It was late spring and summer heat was just starting to make an appearance, yet his mother was pulling a long sleeved shirt over his head. “Mum, I don’t understand, teacher says we should be happy with our marks because it means we have a soulmate. Why do I have to cover them up?”

His mother sighed and knelt down so she was at his eye level. One of her hands cupped his face and the other gently ran up and down one of his mottled arms. “Jeremy, would you say there’s much of a difference between the marks your classmates get and your own?”

“I ‘spose. I get more of them, I guess.”

His mother’s eyes were so sorrowful that he reached out and grabbed her hand in an attempt at comfort. “This is very hard to talk about Jeremy but I think it’s time. Your father and I think your soulmate gets injured more often than they should. Far more often than we'd expect even for an adventurous little girl.”

Jeremy felt his heart pinch. “You think someone is hurting her? Like a bully at school?”

His mother stared at him for quite a long time after that, as if deciding to leave the matter or expand on it further. Finally, she sighed again and said, “possibly a bully, but Jeremy, not all adults are good people and not all parents are good at their job and well, we think it could be someone at home as well.”

“But why would they do that? Parents love their children!”

“All parents are meant to," She agreed. "But they don’t always Jeremy and I think your soulmate's parents may be very mean people.”

Jeremy started to cry and his mother bundled him up into her arms. “How can I help her, mum?”

“For now, I think it’s best if we don’t show everyone how big your marks are, neither she nor you need people talking about it. And when you meet her… you’ll need to be very kind Jeremy, she’ll need kindness.”

Jeremy sniffed, and voice muffled by his mother’s shoulder declared, “I’m going to be kind to everybody, so even if I don’t know she’s my soulmate, she’ll get kindness anyway and anyone else that needs it can have it too.”

“You have such a big heart, my beautiful boy. I love you so much.”

Jeremy had nightmares every night that week and then semi-regularly for months after this conversation, of looming adults with exy sticks and evil intentions.

* * *

At 12, the marks on Jeremy’s skin started getting worse and occurred far more frequently. He started almost exclusively wearing long sleeves. His parent’s, who knew of his soulmate’s abuse long before he was able to properly grasp the concept, would shoot him concerned looks as summer approached and he continued to cover his arms. At very least he used to wear short sleeves around the house, even when his body was covered in aching marks, but he'd stopped doing that as well. His parents never actually talked to him about it, but they often remind him that they’re always there to talk if he needs as they ran fingers gently over the hem of his sleeve.

When what appear to be lash marks start appearing on his skin Jeremy almost has a complete breakdown. He first saw the marks as he got ready to shower after exy practice one evening. He sat in the shower fists in his hair, face pressed hard against his knees, muttering "useless, _useless_ , _USELESS_!" long after the water went cold, only getting out when his younger sister knocked tentatively on the door to see what was taking so long.

Jeremy threw himself into school and exy after that, trying desperately to become better. A feeble attempt to make up for not being able to protect his soulmate. It was mostly shame that kept him covering his arms and plastering on a smile, even when it felt like his whole world was falling apart. But it wasn't Jeremy that needed help, and how could he even think of asking for it when his soulmate was suffering so much more. Still, it also spurred him to be a kinder, gentler, man. Although he enjoyed the physicality of exy, he never let himself get carried away, not wanting to see anyone else with marks like his own. Off the court as well, he refrained from snide comments and always offered sincere thanks at the end of a match, always aware that you never knew what people were going through out of sight and everyone deserved the small kindnesses others were able to offer so _easily_.

Even though the marks got less frequent as he progressed through high school, the wounds seemed to become more brutal, with rope patterns etched on wrists and an increasing number of marks that looked like they were caused by knives instead of hands. Although there were a few that Jeremy noticed looked much like his own Exy injuries. This realisation brought with it a burst of happiness, to know at least this small fact about his soulmate and it spurred him on during training sessions. His hope now was to get into a varsity exy team and meet his soulmate on the court.

* * *

 

Jeremy had held the hope that college would mean an escape for his soulmate and that the brutal marks would lessen, or even stop entirely--he didn’t know why but he had always assumed his soulmate was close to his own age. Unfortunately, when Jeremy entered college the frequency of the injuries remained unchanged and the levels of extreme brutality continued to steadily increase. By college he’d reached, not a complacency, every mark still created a sense sickening anger in the pit of his stomach, but an acceptance that, without knowing his soulmate there was absolutely nothing he could do to assist them. This had eased some of Jeremy's self-hatred and sense of inadequacy, even if he did still have nightmares most nights.

Towards the end of his second year with the Trojans, everything got a whole lot worse. Not for Jeremy of course, but for his soulmate. It started with one particularly bad incident, Jeremy had never been so utterly covered in marks and from there, Jeremy found, there was rarely a day that he wouldn’t have new marks. His wrists seemed to be permanently ringed in what looked like lacerations, he had to invest in turtlenecks and scarves to hide the hand prints around his throat, he almost always ached and didn’t know how his soulmate even functioned considering how much worse their injuries and pain levels would be. The exy marks also continued--although they became hard to spot amongst the plethora of purple that patchworked his body--but they drove Jeremy, and he would watch hours of varsity and court level exy just to try spot someone who might have injuries that would correspond. He never had any luck, too many players wore long sleeves, their legs obscured by padding and uniform and their necks hidden under their helmets.

Jeremy’s nightmares got worse as his marks did, and in private he was quickly becoming an emotional mess. It was true he had never met his soulmate, but even still he’d been raised to hold them in his heart, and he cared deeply for their welfare. On top of this, Jeremy, at heart, was someone who believed in the good of the world and being confronted day after day by the fact that someone could inflict such damage on another human being wore him down. Once again his marks were tearing him apart. Every morning when he woke up and found a purple finger, probably from a break, or long marks along his legs as if someone had beaten him with an exy stick, or any multitude of marks from unidentifiable objects, he found it just that much harder to pull himself together to face another day.

He had thought it was the marks from the exy sticks he found the worst, turning something he loved, that he believed his soulmate loved, into another form of torture seemed the utmost cruelty. That was until he woke up one morning, just before the summer break, to discover his inner thighs covered in bruises as if someone had been forcing them apart, and his wrists almost black from his soulmates struggles against their bonds. As he sat up and felt a dull ache from his lower half and he felt his stomach roil. He only just made it to the bathroom before it forcibly emptied its contents. He remained heaving over the toilet bowl for several minutes before dragging himself up and out of the bathroom. His roommate was staring at him in alarm, and it took all the strength Jeremy had left to summon a wan smile and ask him to inform coach that he wouldn’t be able to make it to training as he seemed to have a stomach bug. As Avery left the room, Jeremy collapsed onto his bed and broke down into heaving sobs.

It took Jeremy another couple of days to even pull himself together enough to remotely resemble ok, and another couple to stop his hands from shaking whenever he looked at his thighs. He was glad most people seemed to take his shakiness and muted enthusiasm as a result of the stomach bug, but he noticed Alvarez and Laila seem to make it their mission to spend as much time as humanly possible around him for several weeks after the incident.

* * *

His mother pulled him aside when he was home for summer break between his second and third year.

“Jeremy,” she said, putting her hand over his, where it lay on the kitchen table. “You don’t seem like yourself. Is everything ok?”

“Nothing to worry about mum, I’m just a bit nervous to be captain next year is all,” he said with a warm smile despite his insides twisting with guilt at the lie.

His mother looked unconvinced but hesitated before going on. After a long pause, she finally said, “I know we don’t talk about it often, and I think that’s because your father and I didn’t know how to handle it early on, but how are things with your marks?”

Jeremy stiffened, he loved his mother unconditionally, and knew she meant well but this was a conversation he really did not want to have. Didn’t even know how to have. It would be one thing if it concerned only himself, but how could he reveal the secrets of someone he didn’t even know. If it were just the continued beatings maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but the intimacies of the violations he knew of were unspeakable, how could he take them from someone as his own secrets to confess.

“Nothing really to report,” he responded stiffly, looking down to his hand, still lying pliantly under hers.

His mother stared into his eyes for a long moment, searching, for what he didn’t know. “Jeremy, you mustn’t blame yourself, I know it’s hard, but it’s not your fault you haven’t found her yet.”

His mother looked like she would continue but Jeremy grabbed on to the one thing he could think of that would be important enough to sway her from the current conversation. Looking up at her through his bangs he asked, “Ma, what if she, well isn’t a _she_?” It had been something he’d noticed in high school, that he found both sexes attractive, but since he hadn’t been interested in dating anyone, and there hadn’t seemed much point if he had a soulmate out there, it hadn’t been an issue worth raising. The marks from his soulmate’s sexual assault lead him to believe that perhaps it was time to have this conversation, instead of just springing it on his parents later.

His mother paused for a moment, appearing to have been surprised to the point of speechlessness. “Oh.” Was all she said for a long moment before her ears began to turn a bright red. “I feel so bad for just assuming now,” she laughed. “And for not knowing!”

Jeremy wasn’t overly surprised by his mother’s reaction, his parents had always been the pinnacle of supportive and caring, but it was still a relief. “So it’s not a problem?”

“Honey of course not! Girl, boy, as long as you’re happy it doesn’t matter. Not one bit,” she got up and came round the table to give him a hug. “We’ll have to tell your father later! How ‘bout I make waffles tonight to celebrate? They’re still your favourite right?”

Jeremy smiled, “thanks ma, sounds great.”

* * *

 

Jeremy’s third year in college was definitely the hardest yet, not only was he troubled by the continuing brutality his soulmate faced but now he had the stress of captaincy on his shoulders as well. He was glad that Alvarez and Laila continue with their unquestioning support. He’s not sure he would be able to survive without them, and the vague sense of normality and stability they bring when they’re around. In their company, he almost feels like everything might eventually be ok.

Then, one morning towards the end of the exy season, Jeremy wakes up and it’s hard to find normal skin colour under all the purple marks. He hasn’t seen anything this bad since the end of his first year and in comparison, this is worse. So bad that Jeremy, who only feels a sliver of his soulmate’s pain, struggles to sit up. He feels a hopeless panic claw at his throat.

Alvarez finds him still sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his trembling marked hands and gasping for air. He looks up at her with eyes wide with emotion and can’t even begin to try and string together any form of explanation. He will forever appreciate that Alvarez doesn’t ask him a single question, instead, eyes shining with anger she sits next to him and pulls him into a tight but gentle embrace, allowing him to bury his head in her shoulder. She murmurs small comforts and tries to get him to slow his breathing. When he finally does manage to pull himself together enough to sit up, she lets him, but still grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly.

They sit in silence for a long while still, although Alvarez does pull her phone out at one point, Jeremy imagines to tell the team they won’t be turning up for practice.

Eventually, Jeremy draws a shuddering breath and voice hoarse, says, “thank you.”

Alvarez squeezes his hand again. “If you ever want to talk about it…” she offers with a small smile.

Jeremy tries to muster a smile of his own, he’s not sure how well it works out. “Thank you," he says again. "I don’t know if there’s much to say, but thank you.”

“One day you’ll find them.”

“I hope so,” Jeremy doesn’t even bother to hide the hitch in his voice. Alvarez pulls him in for another hug. Later that day Laila appears with chocolate and ice cream and Disney movies and tells Jeremy’s roommate to sleep in the girls' room for the night. They create a nest of blankets and pillows in front of the tv and Jeremy has never felt more relieved that he chose the team he did.

* * *

 

It's at the Trojans vs Foxes game when Kevin Day approached him about adding Jean Moreau to the Trojan lineup. Jeremy's marks were finally beginning to fade, but he still wore a turtleneck and gloves.

“I don’t understand,” Jeremy said with a frown.

“It’s overly complicated,” Kevin conceded. “And this isn’t a small favour, Jean’s in a pretty bad way emotionally and physically, this is more of a rescue mission than a transfer, to be honest.”

“From who? Riko?” By now Jeremy had heard the interview where Kevin had basically admitted his hand wasn't the result of a skiing injury. Like most of the exy community, Jeremy hadn’t found it hard to put two and two together, the transfer, Joston’s outburst when Kevin had been surprised by Riko’s sudden appearance during a live interview, it all suddenly painted an ugly picture.

“He’s a monster,” Kevin stated simply. “And I should have done more to save Jean sooner. But he’s out now, and he needs a team. Exy’s all he’s got left.”

“Why not the foxes?”

“Partly because Jean won’t and never should forgive me for leaving him there, and also because he needs a healthy team, the foxes are a certain type of broken that Jean just won't be able to handle, he needs something wholesome.”

“I’ll need to talk to him in person if possible. But if he’s amenable I’m sure it can be arranged. Performance wise he definitely makes the cut, and we can deal with everything else as it comes up,” Jeremy acquiesced.

Kevin gave him a relieved smile, “I’ll set up a meeting once I get back to Fox Tower.”

* * *

 

Jeremy was slightly nervous about going to see Jean, true he had played him a few times and they’d exchanged mild pleasantries at a few exy events, but the picture Kevin had painted had not been a pretty one, and Jeremy didn’t know what exactly he was about to walk into.

Jean was holed up in the spare room of the Fox’s nurse’s house, and it was Abby that showed him through, before knocking on the door she turned to him. “I don’t know how much Kevin told you, but Jean’s in bad shape, really bad shape, there’s lots of bruising and bandages and I’m just telling you now so you don’t get too big of a shock when you walk in there.”

Jeremy nodded tight-lipped and Abby knocked on the door. “Come in,” said a muffled voice with a french accent.

Abby opened the door and popped her head in, “it’s Jeremy from the Trojans, are you alright to see him?”

“That’s fine, thank you, Abby.”

Abby opened the door wider and as Jeremy went to step through asked, “can I get either of you anything? Water? Snacks?”

Jeremy looked behind him as he stepped through the door, to say “I’m right thanks.”

At the same time, Jean said, “I’m ok for now thank you.”

Abby smiled at Jeremy and said “I’ll let you two figure things out then, do call if you change your mind on the snacks,” as she shut the door.

When Jeremy turned and got his first look at Jean since he had left the Ravens, he felt his world tilt slightly. Jean was covered in bruises, his face was battered, one of his cheeks was covered in gauze, his eyebrow seemed to have been split and so had his lip. From what Jeremy could see of Jean’s arms, where they weren’t covered in bandages or gauze, they were in a similar condition. The extent of Jean’s injuries shocked Jeremy, but what had put him so off balance was the fact he knew them all already, Jean’s wrists were bandaged where Jeremy’s were ringed in marks, the gauze running up Jean’s right arm perfectly aligned with the sharply defined line that ran up Jeremy’s, the fingers Jean sported a splint on were the same two that were stained purple on Jeremy’s hand.

Jean Moreau was Jeremy Knox’s soulmate.

Jeremy didn’t even know how to process this information, didn’t know how to share it with a Jean who looked at him with flat eyes void of emotion, confined to a bed. Didn’t know how to tell Jean that he knew intimately what he’d been through, that he had no privacy. Was terrified that if he did tell Jean, he would want nothing to do with Jeremy, would have no interest in making himself more vulnerable than he already was.

In the end, it was the fear that telling Jean he was his soulmate would tear Jean down even further, rather than build him up like he needed, that lead Jeremy to plastering his smile back on and offering an outstretched hand--the hand with marked fingers was tucked safely into the sleeve of his sweater. “Jean Moreau, it’s good to see you!”

Jean accepted the hand, although it looked like moving that far was painful. “Jeremy, it’s been a while. Forgive me I would stand, but….” He didn’t finish the sentence, both of them knew what he meant.

“All is forgiven! Particularly since I hear a Court level exy player might want to join my team!” Jeremy laughed.

“Would you have me?” Jean asked. “Having seen me now, would you still have me? You know it’ll take months for me to heal, I probably still won’t be playing anywhere near normal 'til halfway through next season.”

Jeremy looked at Jean. “We’ll have you. We may not have the same record as the Foxes but it would be unconscionable to turn you away."

Jean winced, “I’m not looking for favors.”

“We need a back for next season anyway, and even if it takes you _all_ of next season to get back to where you were, you’ll still be better than any first-year recruit. Strategically you’re the best choice. If you get the ok, we’ll start training with you before the rest of the team gets back after summer to try speed things up.”

Jean stared at him as if trying to gauge if Jeremy’s offer was driven out of pity, but it seemed Jeremy’s argument was sound and eventually he nodded.

“Where are things at with your contract?” Jeremy asked, sure Kevin wouldn’t have sent him on a wild goose chase, but still needing to know.

“Renee says I’ll be released by the end of the week.”

“Excellent, I want to announce this as soon as possible. Might save me some of the backlash from the last game,” he laughed, some Trojan supporters weren’t as big a fan of sportsmanship as he was and for them, a defeat at the hands of the Foxes was a bitter one.

“You would have won that game.”

“That wasn’t the point.”

“Your team suffered.”

“ _Our_ team is stronger for it.”


	2. The Deep Dark Before Dawn's First Light Seems Eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy finally gets the full story and Jean arrives at USC

Jeremy was surprised that his hands only start to shake after he closed the door to Abby's house. He desperately tried to hold himself together until he was in his car, but they tremble enough that getting the key in the lock was a genuine struggle. When he finally gained entrance, he slumped into his seat and rested his forehead against the rim of his steering wheel.

 

"Fuck." Jeremy normally didn't swear, but Jeremy wasn't even sure what he was feeling, his mind was in shambles and darted between thoughts and emotions erratically. He tried to categorise his thoughts: he'd found his soulmate, they were alive and finally safe – those were good things, he was happy about these things and relieved. However, his soulmate was also battered almost beyond recognition; their eyes dead and lifeless, alive but only really going through the motions – these were not good things. These facts found him oscillating violently between inextinguishable fury and bottomless sorrow.

 

Overall, Jeremy felt as if he'd been forced to take an exam for a class he hadn't taken, in a language he didn't speak, and he felt useless. He felt like he had every time he'd woken up with new marks and had been unable to do anything. Except this time it was worse – because he was actually _here_ , Jean Moreau had been right in front of him and he'd _still_ been unable to do anything.

 

Jeremy vaguely wondered if he should go back to Abby's house and tell Jean. But Jeremy was in no state to turn around and face Jean again tonight, and if Jeremy was barely coping with the news, he could only _imagine_ the reaction of Jean, who was holding himself together with denial and a finite supply of painkillers.

 

Jeremy's phone was buzzing in his pocket – he had a notion that it had been for a while, but it had only just broken through his turbulent thoughts enough for him to notice. He shuffled around in his seat and brought it out to find 3 missed calls from Kevin Day. Bewildered, he hit ‘return call’.

 

"Jeremy?" Kevin answered the phone on the first ring.

 

"Kevin," Jeremy tried to mask how rattled he was with a smile and cheery tone. "You're wondering after our dear Jean Moreau, I imagine?"

 

"Well, yeah. Abby texted to say you guys had finished up, and I guess I was just checking on the outcome," Kevin sounded slightly sheepish now, as if realising he was coming across as clingy.

 

"Fear not, my friend! By the end of the week, we'll have another star in the Trojan ranks!"

 

"That's a relief."

 

"Where are you at the moment? Fox Tower? Is it possible for me to drop over? I need you to tell me everything you know about Jean and the Ravens, and it seems something that's easier to do in person." Jeremy realised he sounded more than a little intense, but he needed answers, and he was too overwhelmed to be anything but direct.

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, Kevin was opening the door to allow Jeremy into his dorm room. Jeremy looked around briefly: it was pretty sparsely furnished compared to his own; just some lawn chairs and beanbags, and a couch that was currently occupied by Neil Joston and Andrew Minyard. The boys sat at either end, facing each other – their legs were tangled in a way that was intimate enough that Jeremy had to fight not to raise an eyebrow at Kevin. _Those two?_

 

"Neil, Andrew, you remember Jeremy, I'm sure," was Kevin's curt introduction.

 

The boys both briefly looked up – Jeremy tried not to stare at the ugly burn that distorted the skin under Neil's eye. He'd already seen it, in the news and from a distance at their game last week, but the violent mark was still mesmerising in its brutality. What the fuck was with these boys? Jean, Neil, Kevin, Andrew, they all seemed to face a day to day violence that Jeremy could hardly imagine, and yet all of them seemed to act like it was par for the course. Jean acted like he wanted to go _back_ to the Ravens; Jeremy had seen an interview where Neil had joked about his face; Kevin had been on the same team that had almost crippled Jean, for _years_ , and when he left, had run into the arms of a drugged up psychopath and _Andrew_. Jeremy felt like he was seeing the world for the first time, seeing _exy_ for the first time and he wasn't really sure how to deal with the ugly truths he was suddenly exposed to. Exy was meant to be his salvation.

 

Neil gave him a small smile as Andrew deadpanned, "How could we forget? You're his number one fan. It's disgusting,” reminding Jeremy that there was a world outside of his own head.

 

Kevin scowled.

 

Jeremy jumped in before Kevin could retort – usually he'd be happy for the banter, but tonight his patience and nerves had been worn thin, to say the least. "So, I was in town signing up one Jean Moreau for our lineup next year and thought I'd pop in to pick Kevin’s brains on the Ravens and” – he hesitated a moment, not really sure how much Neil and Andrew knew, but thinking of Neil's public animosity and antagonism of Riko, and the way Andrew shadowed Kevin at games, and finished – "Riko."

 

Neil looked over at him again at the mention of Jean, and his mouth tightened at Riko's name. "How is Jean?"

 

"Well, he's alive?" was all Jeremy could really come up with, and even that came out more as a question than a statement.

 

Kevin grimaced. "Neil might as well stay. He actually trained with the Ravens over Christmas; he got to spend some time with Jean, too. And Andrew..."

 

"…is sitting reading a book," Andrew supplied.

 

"Is sitting reading a book, don't worry about him."

 

"Okay..." Jeremy agreed, sensing that he was in over his head and was wading deeper still.

 

"So, what do you want to know exactly?"

 

"Everything. I need you to tell me everything you know about Jean Moreau," Jeremy said, hoping his tone came across as firm and not fevered.

 

And so, Kevin started at the beginning, from Jean being sold to the Moriyama's, to the Nest, to Raven conditioning, to the psychopath that was Riko – Neil had a few things to add there – and finally, Neil's bargain, essentially freeing himself, Kevin and Jean from the Ravens’ grasp.

 

"I'm 95% sure Neil sold his soul to the devil in the process," Kevin concluded dryly.

 

"I keep telling you, I just explained the situation logically. I don't know why no one tried to sooner."

 

"No one was stupid enough," Andrew commented.

 

"Fuck off," was Neil's elegant response. Although he sounded distracted, staring at the marks on Jeremy's hand. Jeremy tugged the sleeve of his shirt down, covering his knuckles. Neil caught his eye, and Jeremy looked away. Everything was too much.

 

"He enjoys speaking French, by the way," Neil added rather suddenly.

 

"What?" Jeremy asked in bemusement.

 

"His native language. He enjoys speaking it, enough that he was willing to keep doing it even though Riko had forbidden it. If you know any French, I suggest you brush up – might get you in his good graces faster."

 

Andrew was looking curiously at Neil.

 

Jeremy felt exposed. “Right... I learnt a bit in high school... So I'll see if I have any old textbooks lying around... Thanks..."

 

"Is there anything else you wanted to know?" asked Kevin, looking between Jeremy and Neil as if he knew he was missing something. Jeremy wasn't about to enlighten him.

 

Jeremy tried to make his smile look a little less fragile and replied, "No. Thank you, this was more than I could have expected. It'll definitely help when settling him in."

 

"Excellent," Kevin smiled. "And remember, he won't cope with being on his own for the first while. I know I didn't."

 

Jeremy shook his head, "How do Ravens cope when they graduate? I genuinely don't understand."

 

"Most of them figure out a way," Kevin shrugged.

 

"Right.... Well, I’d better be off, I've got a long drive ahead."

 

"Are you sure you don't want to stay? I'm happy to take the couch." The hope in Kevin's eyes was extremely endearing, but Jeremy had had enough of today, and wanted nothing more than some privacy to have a proper mental breakdown.

 

"Thanks, Kevin, but the sooner I'm back with the Trojans, the sooner I can finalise the paperwork and everyone can relax a little. Good luck with finals, boys! I hope you kill them." Jeremy only added the _literally_ in his own head.

 

Neil gave him a wolfish smile. "Oh, we intend to."

 

Andrew didn't look up from his book but contributed with a slight nod. Jeremy gave a final wave to Kevin and let himself out of the dorm room.

* * *

 

Jeremy didn’t remember much of the trip back to USC: he spent most of it trying not to let his shaking hands veer his car off the road, and trying to ignore his marked knuckles – but aside from trivialities, his mind was strangely blank, like it simply had stopped processing after leaving Kevin’s, unable to deal with more information.

 

It was 4am by the time he reached USC. He'd originally been scheduled to arrive back around midnight, but his impromptu meeting with Kevin had chewed through a lot of time, and he had not exactly tried to rush home.

 

Jeremy knew that he needed sleep, that he'd deal better with this after rest, but instead of parking in front of his dorm building, he parked in front of the Trojan's exy stadium instead. All Trojans technically had access to the court at all hours, although Jeremy doubted the coaches had ever really envisioned them using it in the small hours of the morning, and as he let himself in he stuck to the shadows with the distinct feeling he shouldn't be here.

 

He snuck into the locker room and grabbed his gear, changing into it slowly. Once fully geared up with his gloves in his helmet as he held it under his left arm and exy racket in his right hand, Jeremy paused. After all he'd learnt in the last 12 hours, he wasn't ready to face the court, with its bright lights and wide-open spaces.

 

Jeremy didn't really know why he'd even bothered suiting up. He sighed and dropped his helmet at his feet as he slumped on one of the changing room benches. His racket was held in both hands and he rested his head against it, letting it take most of his weight.

 

Jeremy didn't even know where to begin in processing his emotions and sorting through the massive info dump he'd received today. He’d thought that once he'd met his soulmate it would be easier, but he realised now how naïve that had been. What was he expecting? To just sweep in on his white horse and save them from the big bad bully that _whipped them on a nightly basis_ and it would be fine? Part of him really had thought that it would be that easy, and he was disgusted at himself.

 

He'd also expected that meeting them would ease the suffocating tension that had settled in his chest some time in high school – thought that putting a face to the marks, a name, knowing they were safe and wouldn't be hurt any more would free him from the anxiety and stress and overbearing guilt. But all he saw whenever he shut his eyes was Jean's battered face and lifeless eyes, and it just made everything so much _worse_.

 

Jeremy didn't know what to do.

 

He dropped his racket as the first sob clawed its way up his throat, and buried his head in his hands. The balls of his hands pressed hard against his eyes and his fingers tangled in his hairline, tugging painfully. The pain curbed his hysteria slightly, and if he hadn't still been wracked with uncontrollable sobs he would have laughed. Jean was recovering from injuries that could have easily killed him, and Jeremy was sitting here like a scared child. Jeremy couldn't help feeling – much as he had through most of his high school and college years – that Jean deserved so much better than a useless wreck like him.

 

The sun had risen by the time Jeremy had pulled himself together enough to actually consider sleep and dragged himself back to the dorms.

* * *

 

Jeremy had expected the nightmares to ease somewhat, now that he knew his soulmate was safe and he could watch over them. However, if anything, they'd become worse. Ever since meeting Jean at Abby's house, he was plagued almost nightly by the beautiful boy cowering under Riko's maniacal gaze. Night after night, Jeremy would wake up gasping and sweating, with too many emotions to even attempt trying to go back to sleep.

 

Waking up well before sunrise each morning proved to be almost as bad as the nightmares – awake well before the rest of the world, Jeremy was stuck with his own thoughts. Some mornings, he wasn't sure who he hated more: Riko, for tormenting Jean, or himself, for not finding Jean sooner. Jeremy became an early morning regular at the campus gym as he desperately tried to outpace his own thoughts.

* * *

 

When Jeremy awoke, the day after the Foxes won the cup, to the news that Riko Moriyama had shot himself; he thought back to Neil's grin and shuddered slightly.

 

Unlike the rest of his team, he didn't grieve for Riko.

 

He sent Jean a message – having obtained his number during the transfer process.

 

**_Have you seen the news? Lemme know if you wanna talk. Jeremy_ **

 

Two days later, his phone lit up on his bedside table. When Jeremy looked up from his French book, it was a text from Jean.

 

_When does summer training start?_

 

Jeremy took this as a good sign.

 

**_Early august, but i can talk to coach and if you get cleared by a doc we can start earlier to get you back in shape?_ **

 

_I'll talk to Abby tomorrow_

 

* * *

 

It was the second week of July when Jeremy picked Jean up from the interstate bus depot. His hands were blessedly mark free, so he wasn't forced to wear gloves in the middle of summer, but the marks that littered his arms and torso were still in the process of slowly fading, and he wasn't surprised to see Jean still moved rather stiffly.

 

"Can I carry something for you?" Jeremy asked, looking at Jean's two bags – compared to what Jeremy had lugged the day previous from his parents’ house to USC, it really wasn't much.

 

Jean shot him a glare and tightened his grip. Jeremy held up his hands in surrender, laughing slightly as he led the way to his car. He tried to ignore Jean's poorly disguised limp.

 

It was an hour from the interstate depot to USC, and Jean spent the first half ignoring all attempts Jeremy made at small talk in favour for a blank stare out at the passing scenery. It was only when Jeremy turned the conversation to Exy that Jean moved his head as if he was actually interested, and only when Jeremy finally caved and asked "so when are you getting back on the court?" did Jean actually grace him with a response.

 

"Abby says I shouldn't for at least another week." Jean sounded bitter.

 

"I know that, but it isn't what I asked," Jeremy smiled.

 

Jean looked at him, a softer version of bewilderment crossing over his face.

 

"We won't do anything serious, if I think you're risking aggravating something I'll pull you off til you get a proper all clear from one of the USC docs, and I'm betting they'll make you wait longer than Abby. And if you want to wait the week, that's fine too. But when do you want to go back on the court?"

 

Once he'd gotten over his own shock, Jeremy had called Kevin a few times over the summer to learn more about how to deal with Jean. Kevin – and Neil, distantly in the background, once – had insisted that the best thing for Jean would be to get back on the court. Jeremy could respect that – some days exy was all that held him together as well.

 

"I thought Trojans played by the rules." Jean's tone was placed somewhere between a statement and a question.

 

"Look if you want to follow's Abby's instructions I'm more than happy." Trojans _did_ play by the rules, but as much as Jeremy would say otherwise, he knew Jean was a Raven, and he was aware that the Trojan’s fairly simplistic approach wasn’t developed with the need of someone like Jean in mind. Jeremy wasn’t above bending the rules if he thought it was in Jean's best interest. Jeremy would break every rule in the book if he thought that was what Jean needed.

 

Jean looked at Jeremy for a long while before quietly asking, "Today?"

 

A brief glance away from the road showed the same longing and doubt on Jean's face as Jeremy had heard in his voice. He was sorely tempted to ask if that was what Jean wanted, to hear a more solid answer, but was aware that Jean rarely got what he wanted under Riko's rule, and that pushing Jean to express a desire that wasn't asked hesitantly – as if expecting a trap – would, at the moment, probably do more harm than good.

* * *

 

Jean's first day at USC had gone pretty well: Jeremy had taken him on a campus tour that he was sure Jean paid no attention to, using the opportunity to officially introduce the newest Trojan to the coaches, team doctors and the campus psychiatrist – Betsy, the Palmetto psychiatrist, had already organised an appointment with them before Jean had left Abby's – and they'd dumped Jean's stuff in their room.

 

Jeremy had been in constant turmoil over how much he should indulge the part of Jean that relied on Ravens’ “training”, such as not being left alone, but figured cold turkey would probably do more damage than good, so he had volunteered as Jean's roommate, willing to move in well before term had started, to ensure that even over the summer Jean would have someone around.

 

"You don't snore, do you?" he'd asked with a laugh as Jean packed his meagre possessions into the wardrobe on his side of the room.

 

Jean leveled him with a look as if the question was below him, then did an odd jerky movement that resulted in him quickly looking away from Jeremy’s gaze, and replied in an oddly detached tone. "No, of course not."

 

Jeremy tried not to stare as he realised Jean had essentially flinched away as if expecting harsh words – _or something worse_ a helpful part of his brain added – just for glaring at Jeremy. He tried to hide his discomfort behind a smile, pretending not to have noticed Jean's odd behavior. "Well, I snore when I'm tired, and sometimes I talk in my sleep apparently, so feel free to throw a pillow at me. That's what my old roommate did to shut me up."

 

Even Jean's first practice had gone well, even if they had only done basic drills. A knot of tension Jeremy hadn't even realised he’d had loosened, seeing that Jean could still hold a stick and accurately shoot a ball. It was the most relaxed Jean had looked all day, and the calmest Jeremy had felt since seeing Jean in Abby's all those months ago.

 

A voice in the back of Jeremy's head whispered _tell him_ as he watched Jean draw a line with balls across the goals horizontally and then repeat the process vertically. Jeremy had been struggling with how and when to tell Jean they were soulmates ever since he'd found out, but couldn't bring himself to do it. _Jean needs more right now_ he kept reasoning. _He needs friends, support, stability, he doesn't need this bombshell._ Jeremy wanted Jean to find his footing on his own, instead of falling back on a soulmate like a crutch, and there was nothing more to it.

* * *

 

Jean's second day at USC did not go so smoothly. It started out well enough: Jean and Jeremy got up, went to the dorm gym where Jeremy did weights and Jean went for a gentle jog on a treadmill – he barely worked up a sweat – then the boys went to pick up a few things Jean would need in the dorm, like cutlery and towels – insignificant in the scheme of things.

 

The first problem came in Jean actually having to _choose_ what he'd prefer. Jeremy stood quietly for at least 5 minutes as Jean stared, overwhelmed, at a shelf of mugs. Finally, Jean sighed and turned to him. "You choose something. I don't even know where to start."

 

Jeremy felt another burst of anger – what had the Ravens _done_ that Jean was unable to choose a _mug_ for himself? He forced a smile. "Oh c’mon, it's not that hard! Just grab something funny, or your favourite colour."

 

Jean looked pained. "No, really I don't mind. Buy something that matches what you own or something."

 

"No."

 

Jean looked affronted. "What?"

 

"No. I want you to choose something that you actually like." Jean looked frantically between Jeremy's still smiling face and the mugs.

 

"Ok, this one," he decided, grabbing a mug seemingly at random. It was clear Jean had done this to appease Jeremy, rather than actually buying something he wanted, and Jeremy felt his stomach twist in an ugly sensation that he didn't have a word for.

 

When they got to the towels, Jean hurried over and grabbed the first ones he came across. Jeremy sighed as he followed Jean with a trolley, adding several extras of a more reasonable size when Jean wasn't looking, so that the former Raven wasn't reduced to drying himself with hand towels.

 

The day did not improve from there – in fact, it worsened rapidly at practice. Jean, who had been agitated since the shopping trip, threw himself into his drills with more vigour than yesterday. Jeremy didn't oppose this, as he was hoping the Frenchman would work out some of his nervous energy on the court. That was, until he felt the familiar itching tug of a developing mark, spreading out across his torso.

 

Jean had pulled his stitches, or opened a wound, Jeremy wasn't even sure. What he was sure of was that Jean did not stop, did not slow down, just continued firing ball after ball at the goal.

 

"Jean!" Jeremy barked, his urgency and concern combining to make him far gruffer and louder than he'd intended. Jean began to shoot balls rapid-fire. "Jean!" Jeremy called out again, clapping a hand on Jean's shoulder in an attempt to stop him. He was not expecting Jean's response.

 

Jean violently flinched away from Jeremy's hand, twisting to face Jeremy and losing his footing in his rushed movements.

 

"I'm sorry!" He exclaimed from the floor. "I'm sorry! I can do better!"

 

"What?" Jeremy asked, dumbfounded. No one had ever reacted to him like that – with pure fear, as if he was capable of doing them grievous harm. He'd _never_ wanted anyone to react to him like that; ever since he could remember, his sole goal had been to make people happy, to make them feel safe, and now the _last_ person in the world he'd ever want to fear him, was scrabbling on the floor to get away from him.

 

"I'm sorry. Please, let me try again."

 

"Jean, no it's fine, it's jus-"

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me," Jean whimpered, gasping for breath. Jeremy's suspicion that Jean was having some sort of flashback was confirmed when his pleas continued with, "Riko I'm sorry," as he curled up in a ball on the ground.

 

Jeremy was entirely out of his depth – usually, his freak-outs were soothed with physical comfort, something grounding; but the closer he got to Jean, the more panicked Jean seemed to become. Jeremy backed off several paces, but by then Jean was so far gone he didn't even seem to notice. Jeremy pushed down his own rising panic, trying to recall everything his own Google searches in high school had told him about panic attacks.

 

"Jean!" He called again, emphatic but in a softer tone than he'd used earlier. Jean still flinched slightly, but Jeremy found this a relief, because at least Jean was at least vaguely processing where he was. "Jean, it's me, Jeremy Knox. I'm your captain. You are at the USC court." Jean had stopped apologising and was quiet, but he was still curled in a tight ball, and Jeremy could both see and hear his gasped, too-quick breaths.

 

"Jean, this is not the Nest, this is USC, and I am Jeremy Knox. I am not going to hurt you. You are safe." Jeremy struggled to keep his voice even on the word _hurt_. "Jean, can you look around?"

 

Jean lifted his head. "See, no black. You're safe here, Jean. This isn't the Nest, and Riko isn't here. He's dead, he can't hurt you anymore." Jean flinched at Riko's name, but he looked around, and Jeremy took this as a good sign.

 

"Jean, can you look at me?" Jean looked over obediently. "Do you know who I am?" Jean's breathing began to slow slightly as he nodded.

 

"Who am I?"

 

"Jeremy Knox." Jean's voice sounded hoarse, even though he hadn't been shouting.

 

"And where are you?"

 

"USC's court."

 

"And where is Riko?"

 

Jean took much longer to reply this time. "He's dead."

 

Jeremy decided to try approaching Jean again, and this time Jean didn't back away, although he looked at Jeremy with fearful eyes as he was offered a hand to help him up. Jean didn't take Jeremy's hand, but continued to stare at him as if expecting a trap.

 

"I'm not going to hurt you, Jean," Jeremy said quietly. "I will never hurt you and I will never let anyone else hurt you whilst you’re on this court or in my team."

 

Jean accepted his hand.

 

"We play exy, good luck with that," was his weak attempt at humour as he stood.

 

Jeremy looked Jean in the eye. "I will foul everybody in Class I exy if I have to, Jean, if that's what it takes to make you feel safe."

 

Jean took a long and shaky breath and looked out at the empty stands. "I don't think safe is a word I'll ever believe."

 

That night Jeremy's nightmares gained a new addition: Jean's broken pleas for mercy.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm really shit at updating... I'll try not leave it two months til chapter 3 :') Speaking of I was expecting this to be like 3 chapters, I have realised I was wrong :')
> 
> Thanks to Rachel Ren for being my beautiful beta, check out her amazing stuff here http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars
> 
> Also if you wanna scream with me about AFTG, Jeremy, Jean or the Foxes on tumblr you can find me here http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/


	3. The Clouds Covered Them and Wept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean and Jeremy have a chat and Alvarez sends a text

When he finally considered it a reasonable time to abandon any attempts at sleeping, Jeremy dragged himself out of bed for yet another early morning gym session. If he arrived earlier than usual, and he pushed himself harder than necessary, well, he was the only one who knew.

 

By the time he slumped back into the dorm, Jean had woken and was sitting at the table. There was a bowl of cornflakes in front of him, although instead of actually eating, he was just staring at it blankly. Jeremy sighed, went into the kitchen and made himself a bowl as well. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before sitting across from Jean, who simply continued to stare at his untouched breakfast.

 

Jeremy sighed again. "Morning."

 

Jean twitched slightly and looked up. "Morning."

 

"Feeling a bit better?" Jeremy tried to keep his tone light, terrified that he'd cause Jean to freak out again.

 

"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry about yesterday, I won't let it happen again," Jean's gaze returned to his milk-laden cornflakes.

 

Jeremy resisted yet another sigh—barely. "It’s not something you need to apologize for Jean, I’m just-" _freaked out_ "-confused. And concerned for you."

 

This time, when Jean looked up, he actually met Jeremy's gaze, although he shrank in his chair at the same time. Jeremy vaguely wondered if Jean was like this with everyone, or just captains. He quickly shoved that thought, and Riko's maniacal face, out of his mind - he needed to focus on _Jean_ , not himself or Riko.

 

"I just- forgot where I was? It happens sometimes. A court is a court," Jean tried to explain.

 

"So it's happened before?"

 

Jean shifted uncomfortably. "A few times since leaving Ri- the Ravens."

 

"But this isn't the first time you've been back on the court? So it's not just the location that sets it off?" Jeremy was already fairly certain of this, but needed to talk it through with Jean anyway. He was no use if he kept finding things out _after_ they became a problem; he needed to keep it together, for Jean and for his team.

 

Jean began to fiddle with his spoon, further destroying the structural integrity of his cornflakes. "It's not just the location," he quietly agreed.

 

"Yesterday wasn't just because of the court either, was it?" Jeremy forced himself to ask. Really, he already knew, but even then, he didn't want to hear the confirmation.

 

"No, it wasn't." Jean's face paled slightly, and the hand playing with the spoon took on a barely noticeable tremble—Jeremy resisted the urge to reach across the table and hold it in reassurance.

 

"Did I make it worse by raising my voice?"

 

Jean's grip tightened on the spoon to stop the visible tremors. "Look, it won't happen again. I'm ok to train and I'm ok to play."

 

"Jean, I just want to help." _I’m your soulmate, I’m here to help. Please let me help._

 

"I already told you I don't need your pity."

 

"Help isn't pity." Jeremy didn't even understand how Jean could confuse the two.

 

"Well, I don't need it anyway."

 

Jeremy felt like going back to bed, covering himself with every blanket he owned and sobbing until he fell asleep from exhaustion. Instead, he decided to change tacks.

 

"Look I know you need to prove that you're able to do this, but it doesn't have to be alone. We don't have pairs in the Trojans, but we support each other as a _team_ , if one person is struggling, no matter the reason, we try and lessen the load; that's how we function on the court and off. And Jean - you're struggling, I'm not going to try and sugarcoat that. I'm just trying to understand better, so that I don't personally make your struggles harder."

 

Jeremy was met with silence and a renewed cornflake attack and was about ready to try yet another approach when Jean finally replied, eyes firmly fixed on his spoon. "You were behind me." It was kind of blurted and definitely mumbled and entirely not what Jeremy was expecting.

 

"What?"

 

"When you were watching, you were behind me. I couldn't see your face, and it was so similar to before, I thought you were trying to find something to catch me out on. And then you raised your voice, and you were still behind me and-" Jean began scooping up sodden cornflakes onto his spoon and letting them plop heavily back into the bowl "- you grabbed me from behind. It was so much like what _He_ used to do."

 

Jeremy tried to remember how to breathe. He tried to time it with Jean's cornflake scoops—scoop up, breathe in, pause, drop spoonful, breath out, repeat.

 

"And suddenly it wasn't you it was Riko and I wasn't at USC I was in the Nest," Jean concluded.

 

"I'll make sure I stand in view if I'm watching," Jeremy finally managed to force out, still feeling short of breath. "Do you not like to be touched at all? Or is it just when someone comes up from behind?"

 

Jean paused in his scooping and looked as if he were debating whether to answer or not. "I'm generally ok if I'm expecting it."

 

"But you don't enjoy it." The phrase _pulling hens’ teeth_ suddenly jumped into Jeremy's mind, and he felt immediately guilty.

 

" _Enjoy_ would be a strong term for it," Jean conceded. "It's tolerable enough that I don't really go out of my way to avoid it most of the time. I'm fine during exy," he added, as if _that_ was the cause of Jeremy's concern.

 

"When you say 'most of the time', is that depending on the day? Depending on the touch? Or depending on the area?" Jeremy was running through in his head, all the times he'd casually touched Jean since he'd moved to USC.

 

Jean slumped in his chair as if resigned to answering Jeremy's questions. "A bit of all of the above? I don't really know, I haven't been afforded luxury of time and space to actually figure it out."

 

"Ok, ok," Jeremy relented. "One last question and I'm done. If for whatever reason I need to touch you, where should I avoid?"

 

Jean tensed _again_ and his mouth tightened into a pale line.

 

"You don't ha-" Jeremy began.

 

"Don't touch my wrists," Jean ran over the top. He tugged the sleeves of his shirt down even has he said this, so that his wrists and hands were covered to the knuckles. "Hands and arms are fine, but I don't like people grabbing me by my wrists."

 

Jeremy felt his stomach turn, but nodded. "Noted."

 

* * *

 

After their chat, things settled down, and Jeremy found life returning to some sort of normalcy. The remaining marks on Jeremy's body were steadily fading, and hadn't darkened since the second day of exy practice. Jean seemed to zone in and out of reality a bit, but it seemed more like he was switching to autopilot rather than having flashbacks. Jeremy's night's remained consistent, with traumatic dreams followed by early gym sessions, which Jeremy would admit wasn't great, but hey, he could manage, and at least he was keeping up his fitness over the break.

 

They had fallen into what wasn't exactly a rhythm, but at the very least, some sort of pattern that they could both follow. Jeremy got back from the gym and either Jean was up, or would rise when Jeremy started making coffee—much to Jeremy's amusement, Jean liked his coffee as white and sweet as one could have it without it becoming sweetened milk. They'd have a quiet breakfast—Jeremy would occasionally try to make small talk, usually to very little success; however, every now and then he'd get a slightly longer reply out of Jean, usually to exy related questions—although, yesterday he'd also learnt a lot on the subject of Jean's distaste for I-hop pancakes as well. Jeremy was hoping to mention Waffle House sometime next week to see if this got a similar response.

 

After breakfast, they'd head down to the court for a few hours of drills. Although drills had run smoothly for over a week, Jeremy was terrified to even open his mouth for their duration, and found it a relief when lunchtime rolled around. Usually, they had lunch in their room, but today Jeremy was restless - he'd slept poorly again the night before, and the stress from worrying if he'd accidentally send Jean into another spiral of panic during practice had worn him down. He was sick of the routine, he was sick of always walking on eggshells, and fuck it, he was sick of salad sandwiches for lunch.

 

"Hey, lets get out of here, I wanna eat something covered in salt and cheese with nothing green in sight," he told Jean as they walked into the bedroom to dump their training stuff.

 

Jean leveled him with a look crossed between disgust and consternation. "Your eating habits disturb me."

 

"Whatever. Are you coming or not?"

 

Jean looked torn, and Jeremy realised that, if left entirely up to him, he probably didn't want to go, but the desire not to be left alone, or perhaps not to go against a request from Jeremy--he tried hard not to dwell on that thought, but he had noticed that Jean never went against something he suggested—overrode personal desire.

 

"Sure," Jean said, finally. "Just let me change."

 

Before Jeremy had the chance to respond or to leave the room, Jean took his shirt off and started rummaging through his drawers. Jeremy stood there, frozen, staring at the expanse of flesh Jean had exposed. Despite the fact that they only had access to the home-side changing room, Jeremy had carefully avoided changing around Jean so far. Still covered in Jean's marks, it was too risky a game to play. Under fading bruises and old scars, Jean was pale and muscled, and Jeremy remembered, as a blush rose to his cheeks, that Jean was his soulmate, and all the connotations of that term.

 

Jeremy swept his gaze from Jean's shoulders, following the elegant arch of his spine down to where his exercise shorts hung elegantly on narrow hips. _I’m your soulmate._ "Uh," was all he managed to get out. Jean twisted so he was able to see Jeremy's shocked face. The sharp collarbones and defined arm muscles that were revealed as he did this didn't help Jeremy's ability to formulate coherent sentences in the slightest.

 

"Uh," Jeremy repeated, "right, I'll wait in the - out there." Jeremy pointed to the common area and knocked a lamp off his own chest of drawers in the process. He sprang forward, managing to catch it before it hit the ground, put it back on the cabinet and left the room, decidedly not looking in Jean's direction.

 

Eventually, Jean came out of the bedroom to find Jeremy trying to look casual as he leaned against the kitchen countertop. Jean looked slightly pink himself as he said, "Sorry, I forgot normal people don't just strip mid-conversation."

 

Jeremy really didn't know what to do, so he laughed, and hoped Jean didn't hear the panic behind it. "Normal people are overrated. Don't worry about it,” was all Jeremy managed, even though his brain was screaming at him to confess to Jean. _You’re my soulmate._

 

Jean shifted a little and fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt, but didn't contradict Jeremy. "So where are we going for lunch?"

 

"Anywhere in particular you want to go?" Jeremy knew he was probably asking in vain, but needed to ask anyway, still trying to provide Jean with an environment that allowed him to actually make his own choices.

 

Jean looked pained. "I don't know any food places around here - just take me somewhere you like. I mean, you were the one who wanted to go out in the first place."

 

Jeremy was tempted to suggest I-hop, but was also terrified that Jean wouldn't see the joke and just go along with it despite his hatred of “maple syrup covered hockey pucks,” so instead he grabbed his keys, headed to the door and called over his shoulder, "C’mon then, guess we can give you a food tour while we're at it."

 

* * *

 

Jeremy found himself staring blankly at the ceiling that night. He often had trouble sleeping, but usually put on a better show than this. The problem was that every time he shut his eyes, he saw the muscled planes of Jean's back. He was stuck in his own head, thoughts spinning in loops, feeling guilty for thinking of Jean in such an objective way, soulmates or not. He was wondering what soulmates even _meant_ —this was nothing like he'd ever imagined. Shouldn’t they both have known? Shouldn’t the world have broken into song and corrected all wrongs? Shouldn't there be some sort of love at first sight?

 

He was relieved when his phone buzzed with an incoming message.

 

**Alvarez 12:12**

**How is my favourite insomniac?**

 

Jeremy smiled as he replied.

 

_Nb nb! U?_

 

**Alvarez 12:13**

**Dying of boredom. Mum's locked my exy stuff in the way because we need "family time"**

 

Jeremy winced in sympathy.

 

_Im going to b running circles around u! Bin on the court evry day with our newest recruit!_

 

**Alvarez 12:15**

**Ah yes how is our little French wonder doing?**

 

Jeremy would never understand how someone who was as serious as Alvarez came up with the most ridiculous nicknames, but he appreciated her all the more for it. Except for that week that she'd decided to call him Noot Noot when she'd discovered his favourite childhood show was Pingu.

 

_Hell give most of us a run for our money_

 

**Alvarez 12:16**

**How likely am I to want to punch him?**

 

It was a joke, Jeremy knew it was a joke. Still, he couldn't help the anger that bubbled up. Or the nausea the roiled in his stomach at the thought of Jean finding echoes of the Ravens in the way the Trojans treated him. But it was a joke, and he pushed his feelings down, even as his hands shook.

 

_Plz dnt scare the new guy_

 

**Alvarez 12:17**

**Is he still a Raven?**

 

_No hes a trojan. Hes signed the contract._

 

**Alvarez 12:17**

**Not what I meant!**

 

Jeremy was struggling to keep his emotions out of his texts. He had to retype his message four times before he was sure he wouldn't offend Alvarez.

 

_Hes a Trojan. He has stuff he needs 2 work out cos of the Ravens. Not his fault. Be nice._

 

**Alvarez 12:21**

**Fiiiiiine. Been up to anything other than exy?**

 

Jeremy took another deep, steadying breath and tried to let some of his anger ebb from his system. He'd always been a protective person, quick to stop bullying before it began, but he didn't usually have such an emotional response.

 

_Nm rly. Jeans trying to work off the rust nd theres not much 2 do on campus during break. How many hikes has ur mother dragged u on?_

 

**Alvarez 12:23**

**Poor you :( go out drinking or something this weekend! You say Jean's obsessed but I know you're just as bad, you need to let your hair down a bit. You never know you may meet your special someone ;) and uhg way too many. I hate everything green.**

 

Clubbing was not something Jeremy particularly enjoyed, and drinking was never something he really understood: it tasted bad, you did stupid things and you felt like crap the next day. Soulmates were usually a topic Jeremy avoided, and Alvarez had followed suit for the most part, particularly after she'd seen Jeremy's marks, but Jeremy was so lost, and technically Alvarez had brought it up...

 

_Oh is that y u go drinking all the time?_

 

Alvarez took so long to reply that Jeremy was considering sending an apology text in case he'd offended her. He picked up his phone, but before he managed to type anything, his phone buzzed again.

 

**Alvarez 12:31**

**Haha. No**

 

Had he offended her?

 

**Alvarez 12:31**

**Actually I've already found my special person....**

 

Jeremy sat bolt upright in bed.

 

_WHAT???!?!?!?!_

_WHEN?????!!!!_

_ON ONE OF UR MOMS HIKES???_

_ARE U DATING A HIKER????!?_

 

**Alvarez 12:34**

**Haha noooo. God can you actually see me with a hiker? I can't at all :')**

 

Jeremy couldn't understand why Alvarez was being so cagey about this. Sure, he avoided talking about his own soulmate at all costs, but surely she knew that he'd be happy for her? He was halfway through typing /Hiker or not I'm so hap/ when his phone buzzed again.

 

**Alvarez 12:34**

**Actually, I found out a bit before break**

 

_Oh.... so some1 on campus?_

_Wait is it some1 i no?_

 

**Alvarez 12:41**

**Haha you could say that...**

**Alvarez 12:41**

**It's Laila**

 

Jeremy felt his reality shift around him as he took in this news. He thought back on all the times Laila and Alvarez had gone off to do their own thing. How they seemed to be joined at the hip. How long they'd known each other.

 

_OMG how am i only finding this out now?? Thats amazing! So cute! I ship it!_

 

**Alvarez 12:46**

**Haha sorry, it was just so big y'know? Can you not tell her I told you though?**

 

_Yeah ofc she want 2 keep it on the downlow? Tbh i never realised laila was in2 girls! Do i have to find a new guy gazing buddy?_

 

Alvarez took such an age to reply, Jeremy was wondering if she'd actually fallen asleep. Finally, his phone buzzed in his hand.

 

**Alvarez 12:59**

**She didn't know either haha that's why we haven't told anyone**

 

**Alvarez 1:00**

**Actually we still don't know**

**Alvarez 1:00**

**If she's into girls I mean. The soulmates part is pretty certain**

 

What? _What?_ Jeremy felt the blood drain from his face.

 

_Oh wow ok. I dont really know what to say. I'm so sorry_

 

**Alvarez 1:02**

**It is what it is.**

 

_That doesnt mean it doesnt suck_

 

**Alvarez 1:06**

**Yeah it sucks :(**

 

_I dont no if i can do anything. But im here. Cuddles disney movies icecream watevr u need <3 _

 

**Alvarez 1:10**

**Thanks Jeremy <3 it's been good just to tell someone. I better get some sleep, mum want to go for a "walk" tomorrow. Night xx**

 

_Glad u cld talk 2 me. Lol goodluck tomorrow!_

 

Jeremy had heard rumours of soulmates that were only interested in friendship - painful, one-sided loves. He'd always assumed they were just rumours, expressions of people’s anxieties, those awful 'what ifs'. He'd never heard of soulmates having precluding sexual orientations, he'd never even _thought_ about it. Did he really want to put that on Jean? More stress? More expectations? What if Jean was expecting his soulmate to be female? Would Jean’s mental state hold up in a revelation of his sexuality?

 

_"Don't touch my wrists.”_

 

Jeremy thought back to the ugly marks that would appear between his thighs and circle his wrists. He thought of the phantom handprints that had marred his skin.

 

_"And suddenly it wasn't you, it was Riko."_

 

Would Jeremy just make everything worse? Would he remind Jean of all the things Riko had done, would he be another bar in the prison inside Jean’s head? Jeremy's stomach turned, remembering Jean’s pretending that going out to lunch was something he wanted, and all the times Jean had immediately done something Jeremy had asked, even if it didn't seem like something he was keen on. Would he just go along with Jeremy's ideas on what a soulmate should be, just to please him? To make sure he wasn't angry? Wouldn't punish him like Riko had?

 

No. Nonononono NO.

 

Jeremy couldn't have that. He couldn't even wonder that. Jean needed to find his footing. To learn to trust Jeremy as a captain and a teammate, as a friend even. Not follow him because he was bound by the obligations of soulmates. Telling Jean wouldn't help anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a really slow update sorry! In my defence, I've been working two jobs on top of uni....  
> Also, thank you for all the wonderful comments! I don't always reply but I always read and you're all awesome <3
> 
> Thanks again to Rachel Ren for betaing, go check out her stuff! http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars (also someone should teach me who to link these properly plz)
> 
> Also feel free to scream at me on tumblr http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com


	4. And the Stars Stood Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy needs a nap and Jean discovers he's not the only one who has nightmares

 

It was 6 A.M. and Jeremy was tired. No, he was exhausted. No, he was a bone-deep weary that he wasn't even sure sleep would actually fix anymore.

 

His sleep had been poor—to say the least—recently and his conversation with Alvarez last night had robbed him of what little he could usually manage. He'd considered going to the gym at around four, but even that was too much for him, and so he just lay there, staring at the ceiling. Finally, at six, his old wake-up—and now, ‘finish up at the gym’—alarm went off, and he sighed and pushed himself out of bed.

 

He froze.

 

In the pre-dawn light, Jean stared unblinkingly at him from his own bed, the covers drawn up high, so just his nose and eyes were visible.

 

"You scared the shit out of me, man!" Jeremy exclaimed, hand clutched over his rapidly beating heart.

 

"No run today?" Jean asked, oblivious—or uncaring—to his roommate’s fright.

 

"Gym, actually," Jeremy corrected. "And nah, I was pretty beat."

 

For the first time, Jeremy wondered if he actually woke Jean up when he left, or if it was just the most logical conclusion that Jean woke up regularly to find Jeremy out.

 

Jean sat up and stretched. "Really? Captain Caffeine-High, running out of energy?" He paused, almost in contemplation, and rolled onto his back, his arms appearing above the blanket. "Does this mean you're only functioning at a normal human level today? And you just feel tired because you're used to working on a plane of existence above us mere mortals?"

 

Jeremy blinked. "Was that an actual sense of humour I just saw?"

 

As Jean looked up sharply, Jeremy could see the panic forming. With no sleep and even less emotional stability, Jeremy did the only thing he could to avoid a series of apologies he just could not handle before coffee. He burst into loud, raucous laughter that caused Jean to jump almost as high as Jeremy had just minutes earlier.

 

There was a hysterical edge to his laugh, and it felt too loud in the diffuse light of early morning, but try as he might, Jeremy couldn't rein it in. He doubted Jean noticed: his panic was fading, leaving a dazed expression on his face; and it was hard to tell in the low light, especially when Jeremy's sight was blurred by 'amused' tears, but he thought the tips of Jean's ears had turned slightly pink.

 

Finally pulling himself under control, Jeremy wiped a tear from his eye. "I didn't know you had it in you."

 

Jean harrumphed. "The French have great humour. You Americans are just too stupid to understand."

 

Jeremy chuckled again as he walked into the common area. "If you say so, Frenchy."

 

Jean’s face pulled into a sour expression of distaste. "Don't ever call me Frenchy again."

 

Jeremy ignored the look of horror that crossed Jean's face after being so forceful with his captain, and held up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine."

 

Jean's expression remained tense, but Jeremy still took the accidental banter as a positive sign. He didn't have the strength to consider other alternatives today.

 

* * *

 

Despite the surprisingly bright start to the morning, Jeremy simply couldn't manage to hold on to his good cheer.

 

In all honesty, after picking at breakfast for half an hour, all Jeremy wanted to do was go back to bed. To try and get some sleep as the bright sunlight hopefully warded him from the horrors that plagued his sleep. Unfortunately, Jean walked out of the bedroom with his gear bag slung over his shoulder and gave Jeremy an expectant look until he dragged himself up from the table to go get ready.

 

Practice just served to make everything worse: the lack of sleep combined with Jeremy’s shattered emotional stability meant that little things that normally he would have been able to brush off pushed him that much closer to the edge. Jean’s skittish behavior—ensuring Jeremy was never behind him for more than a few seconds at a time—made Jeremy want to scream, every flinch and apology, every time Jeremy had to go out of his way to try—and for the most part, fail—to make Jean feel at ease felt like it took more energy than Jeremy was able to give, but he didn’t have a choice. By the time they returned to the dorms for lunch, Jeremy found it an effort to keep his hands from shaking.

 

Even after lunch, Jeremy couldn’t find it in himself to abandon Jean. Even though all he wanted to do was to go curl up in a ball under his blankets and not resurface until someone literally dragged him out, he sat down with Jean in front of their television to go over old game tapes of the Trojan’s newest recruits and discuss potential training strategies—for the most part, Jeremy waffled as Jean sat quietly; it took a truly _terrible_ play for Jean to provide any real input and that was generally a derisive one-word comment. By the time Jean stood to get ready for his appointment with the campus psychiatrist, Jeremy felt hollowed out and overstuffed at the same time. He had to keep his hands stuffed in his pockets whilst Jean wandered around collecting his things, having lost the battle to keep them from trembling.

 

Jeremy was thankful that Jean walked to the psychiatrist alone—a suggestion that Jean had adopted after the first week, in an attempt to develop some autonomy in small and easy to manage doses—he wasn’t sure he would have been able to drag himself from the couch, let alone talk to Jean on the walk, or any of the campus staff they may have encountered. He was also thankful for the time alone, hoping that he would be able to sneak in a nap and realign the world to a point where attempting to function wasn't physically painful.

 

He didn't have the energy to go back to the bedroom, so merely burrowed deeper into the cushions on the couch and closed his eyes—only to be met by Riko's face, wearing a menacing grin.

 

Jeremy jerked, sighed, rolled onto his back and readjusted the cushion under his head. Staring at the ceiling, he zoned out until his eyes fluttered shut of their own accord.

 

_Jean cowered on the USC court, begging Jeremy not to hurt him._

 

Jeremy almost sobbed as he scrubbed his face. He turned the television back on in an attempt to anchor himself to reality, and tried again to relax on the couch.

 

_He was covered in Marks. He saw Neil Josten's scarred face. Jean lying listlessly in bed covered in gauze and bruises._

 

Jeremy didn’t even have the energy to jump up, to go to the gym and outrun his thoughts – instead, he blearily opened his eyes and stared blankly at the television. He eventually pulled himself together enough to grab another one of the newbies’ files and continue to work on pre-season training plans.

 

* * *

 

Jean returned home from his appointment looking pale and worn out. Jeremy had already decided that he was far too tired to cook dinner, and had laid out a variety of fast food menus on the counter for Jean to look through. Of course Jean pushed the decision back onto Jeremy, which only served to make his mood worse—although he really shouldn't be surprised.

 

 _A single joke isn’t going to be the light at the end of the tunnel_ , he thought to himself bitterly. Still, he struggled desperately not to take it out on Jean, whether the other realised he was being punished or not, and so they ended up eating Vietnamese—one of the options that had most vegetables and least grease—in consideration for Jean's preference of ‘ _boringly healthy’_.

 

By the time they'd gone out, eaten and gotten home, it was just past eight. Jeremy low-key felt like his soul was going to escape his body if he didn't curl up into bed at this very moment, but also knew it was way too early for Jean to sleep—and Jean would always head to bed at the same time as Jeremy. Partly because Jeremy didn't want to put Jean through any undue stress at being abandoned so early in the evening, and selfishly because he really didn't need the guilt of Jean going to bed at 8pm weighing on his already heavy conscience as he tried to sleep, Jeremy turned on the television, flicked to some sappy rom-com that ended just after 10, and resigned himself to staring at the screen for the next couple of hours.

 

Jean sat down and joined him, and Jeremy was eternally grateful for once at Jean's near-perpetual silence. If Jean had been like any of Jeremy's other teammates and attempted to engage in a discussion about the movie, Jeremy would have been entirely sprung for not paying any attention at all. Although, knowing Jean, he wouldn't have thought anything of it, unlike Jeremy's other teammates, and Jeremy would have been spared the concerned questions and awkward explanations anyway.

 

Finally, _finally_ , the credits were rolling and Jeremy allowed himself to stand up and stretch. Yawning, he turned to Jean, who inexplicably seemed to be texting someone, and said, "I'm wrecked, I'm going to start heading to bed. You want me to leave the television on?"

 

Jean looked up as soon as Jeremy had started talking, but his gaze returned to the small screen in his hand as he replied with a "No, it's fine, I'll turn in as well."

 

Jeremy switched off the TV, grabbed his PJ's from their room and went to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth before collapsing onto his bed. Despite his trembling hands and pounding heart, sleep quickly dragged him under, his body so exhausted that even the darkest thoughts his brain could conjure weren't able to dissuade the impending unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

_It was dark. Jeremy could barely see the ground in front of him, but someone was here—he heard them sobbing; a quiet pleading he couldn't quite understand; and then a harsh crack, a cry, laughter, more pleading._

_Riko! Riko had found Jean. Jeremy still hadn't been able to protect him._

_Everything was silent now, as Jeremy began to run in the dark, trying to find Jean. He slammed into a wall, twisted and ran off in another direction._

_"Jean? Jean! Where are you?"_

_There was manic laughter to his left. Jeremy turned, slamming into another wall. Now the laughter was behind him. "RIKO, WHERE IS HE?" he yelled out, suddenly furious. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?" The laughter stopped, and Jeremy stood still, ears perked, desperately straining to hear any sound of Jean or even Riko._

_There was a quiet giggle ahead, where Jeremy knew there was a wall, and then silence, silence, silence._

_"JEAN!" Jeremy tried again. A shattering_ _thought—_ what if he killed him? What if he's dead? _—crept_ _into his head. He started running again, calling Jean's name repeatedly, but only crashed into another wall. This one wasn't flat like all the others: there was a bit protruding out of it that jammed into Jeremy's hip. Feeling around, he found a handle that he wrenched up, collapsing through the door as it suddenly swung outward. Tumbling to the ground, Jeremy heard the door shut behind him._

_On hands and knees, he proceeded to feel about on the ground, suddenly worried that this new area would have strange_ _objects hidden in the dark. His hands brushed against something hard and metal jutting up from the ground. Jerkily feeling the object, he found that it connected to what felt like a wide, flat metal plank._

Almost like the ones in the - _as he thought the word ‘ **court’** the lights suddenly came on, blindingly bright, and Jeremy was glad he was on the ground because he was sure he would have fallen from the shock—or the searing pain—otherwise. _

_Blinking slowly, Jeremy's vision came back in vivid blurs of colour until he was able to make out the walls of a court. Staring at the red-on-black coloration, he realized it wasn't **his** court; wasn't USC, but Edgar Allen's. Panicking even more than when he'd been alone in the dark, Jeremy surged to his feet. _

Where’s Jean? _Jeremy had to get him out—Jean couldn't be here, Jean could never be here, he wasn't safe here. Whirling, he finally caught sight of his soulmate, in the centre of the court Jeremy had just exited._

_Jean was kneeling, limp, his tear-streaked face blank._

_Riko was standing behind him, a whip in one hand, a knife in the other._

_"JEAN!" Jeremy yelled as he ran towards the door, only to slam into it as he grabbed the handle—and the door didn't budge. Jeremy violently pulled on the handle, trying to wrench the door off its hinges, only succeeding in making the plexiglass of the court rattle slightly. Desperately, he looked around for another way in, but of course, the court was fully sealed. Jean was trapped inside and there was nothing Jeremy could do._

_"JEAN!" Jeremy shouted again, trying to get Jean to focus on him, instead of staring vacantly in his general direction. "JEAN! YOU HAVE TO GET UP! YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF THERE!" Jeremy bashed his fist against the glass. "Jean, you have to get out, please!" Jeremy tried to shout, but it came out more as a broken plea._

_Riko laughed at his distress. The whip suddenly disappeared from Riko’s hand and he roughly yanked Jean's head back, placing the knife to his exposed throat._

_"Whatcha say, Jean? We could end it all here. Wouldn't that be fun? Watching our pretty Trojan tear himself apart because he couldn't help?"_

_Jean let out a barely audible whimper._

_Riko's grin widened impossibly, making him look less human and more like something that wanted you to_ **think** _it was human. "No? Too easy? Ok then, have it your way." And as he laughed, everything went black again._

_No, Jeremy realised, not everything—he could still see Jean, although he was standing now. And closer. Jeremy could take three steps and Jean would be in his reach._

_He stepped forward slowly, half-expecting to slam once again into an invisible barrier. But no, he was able to make his way forward unimpeded, and finally, he was at Jean's side—he could help._

_This close, he could see Jean had tears trailing down his face. "I'm sorry," Jean sobbed, still not seeming to focus on Jeremy. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."_

_"Jean, no, it's ok, you haven't done anything," Jeremy reassured, attempting to comfort. It didn't help, if anything, Jean became more distressed._

_"NO! I didn't mean it, please, I'm sorry, please don't hurt me," he sobbed, still not moving, slightly curled in on himself, tears rolling down_ _his face._

_"Jean, I'm not going to hurt you, I'm here to help," Jeremy tried again, reaching out, intending to dry Jean's face._

_However, on contact, Jean let out a cry of pain, and the skin under Jeremy's thumb started to glow. Quickly withdrawing his hand, the skin of Jean's face that he'd touched began to flake away, golden flakes catching on an unfelt breeze._

_"I'M SORRY," Jean cried again. "PLEASE! I'll be good."_

_Jeremy flinched back in horror. "Nononono. Jean no, I'm sorry. I didn't- what's happening? I don't want to hurt you." Jeremy tried to back away further, terrified of accidentally causing Jean more pain, but before he could –_

_Riko's_ _hand fell on his shoulder._

_Jeremy lashed out, grabbing Riko's wrist to stop him escaping and drawing a fist back, intending to hurt, to maim-_

 

Jean let out a startled cry, almost knocking a lamp over as he flinched away from Jeremy. For a moment, all Jeremy could do was stare, bewildered, at the scene before him.

 

He was in his room, at USC, his blankets were a tangle on his bed. Jean was half-crouched, half-fallen on the ground beside Jeremy's bed; he was twisted at an awkward angle, feet still facing toward Jeremy, but his upper body twisted away, the arm that Jeremy was holding pulled taut in an attempt to escape Jeremy's raised fist.

 

"Sorry," Jean stammered, face turned away, bracing for impact.

 

Jeremy, frozen in shock, looked at his raised fist, and then at the hand that still held Jean's wrist.

 

_'Don't touch my wrists. I don’t like people grabbing my wrists.'_

 

"Jean..." Jeremy gasped, recoiling as if Jean's wrist had burnt him. The image of Jean screaming in pain as his skin flaked where Jeremy had touched him flashed before his eyes.

 

Meanwhile, Jean, unexpectedly free, sprawled out on the floor as Jeremy slammed back against the wall beside his bed. "Jean..." Jeremy tried again, but interrupted himself as he gasped for breath, trying to gain some control of the situation, trying to ignore the echoes of Jean's scream from the nightmare, trying to calm down, trying to smile, trying to pretend everything was ok. He gasped in another breath. "Jean... what?" he managed finally.

 

"You were yelling in your sleep," Jean said as he pushed himself up. Now he was crouched by the bed untethered, looking wary, one hand rubbing at his wrist gingerly, there was a slight tremble in his fingers.

 

 ** _‘Don’t touch my wrists’_**.

 

Jeremy was suffering the double horror of hurting Jean: both in his nightmare and inadvertently in real life, and was struggling to come down from the adrenalin. He kept taking gulps of air, hoping to calm himself down, but it wasn’t working.

 

"Sorry," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Jean, sorry... so sorry... sorry.... didn't mean... sorry." Jeremy realised that he wasn't really coherent, squeezing out half-formed apologies between gasped breaths, but he couldn't stop. He wasn't even sure what he was apologising for—the dream? Grabbing Jean's wrist? His annoyance earlier in the day? Not finding Jean sooner? Really, it was everything: Jeremy was sorry for everything he could have done, but hadn’t, and everything he did do, but shouldn’t have.

 

Jean looked at Jeremy in confusion, then lifted himself so he was vaguely perched on the edge of the bed, and leant closer to look at Jeremy's face, staring at him. Jeremy continued to babble apologies.

 

"Jeremy," Jean cut him off, "are you... having a panic attack?"

 

"Yes," gasped Jeremy, "Sorry."

 

Jean backed away. "Oh!" He sounded surprised. "Uh, that's fine. I'll give you some space."

 

"No!" _Please don't go where I don't know you're safe. Please don't leave. Please don't leave. Please don't leave me_. _I’m sorry._

_I’m sorry._

_I’msorry._

_I’msorryI’msorry._

_Sorrysorrysorrysorry_ _._

“Sorrysorrysorry.”

 

Jeremy reached out to stop Jean from moving off the bed— _'don't touch my wrists'_  —and then violently flinched back, slamming himself against the wall again, this time harder.

 

Jean flinched at the sound. "Sorry!" Jeremy gasped again.

 

Jean paused next to Jeremy's bed, half-turned to leave but looking back at Jeremy in confusion. "You want me to... stay?" He enquired cautiously.

 

"Yes- please- sorry-" Jeremy could barely get words out past gulping inhales, couldn't force his body to stop trying to bring in more air than he could possibly need.

 

Jean didn't move. Jeremy hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in the tangle of limbs. Apologies continued to tumble from his lips whenever he had the air to form words. It was excessive, it was crazy, he knew he must be freaking Jean out and no matter how much he apologised, it would never be enough—but they kept coming.

 

Jeremy wasn't even sure Jean was still in the room until his bed dipped as Jean sat on it. Jean shuffled back so he was leaning on the wall next to Jeremy, and cleared his throat. "It's ok?" Jean tried to reassure, although it came out as more of a question. "I mean, whatever you did, in your dream, or whatever, I'm sure it's ok. No one will be mad."

 

Jeremy thought of his dream, of Jean's bruised and hollow face at Abby's, of his fist that had come so close to causing more damage to Jean's body, to Jean's wrist caught tight in his grasp, Jean flinching away from him in practice. Nothing was okay, nothing would ever be okay, but even then, Jean was here, next to him, laying an unknown thread of forgiveness before him, and something in his chest loosened. He took a rattling, gasping breath, let it go, all the way out, then another back in, and began to cry in earnest, rather than the dry, heaving sobs that had snuck in between gasped breaths.

 

They sat there for what Jeremy was sure felt like forever to Jean, who kept up a stop-start flow of reassurance which Jeremy shouldn't have found as soothing as he actually did. Finally, _finally_ , Jeremy managed to pull himself back together and looked at Jean. He was surprised that Jean had stayed; even more surprised that he'd actually tried to calm him down. Jean looked back, his expression an odd mix of confusion, alarm and something searching that Jeremy didn't have a name for. For a long while, they simply sat and stared at each other.

 

"You good?" Jean asked, at last, much to Jeremy's relief—he hadn't known how to break the silence.

 

Jeremy took a long, slow breath, as if to demonstrate that he could. "Yeah." His voice was cracked and barely audible. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah, I'm good. Sorry about that."

 

"Do you have cocoa powder?" Jeremy's blank stare of bewilderment must have prompted Jean to elaborate. "You know? Like for hot chocolate? Surely you do, your diet is awful and you can’t live off caffeine alone."

 

Jeremy vaguely wondered if he was still asleep. "Yeah, I do. Why?" He asked, unable to follow the extreme leap in conversation topics.

 

"I feel like hot chocolate," Jean explained, standing up. When he reached the door and Jeremy hadn't moved, he turned back. "Do you want some too? I always found it comforting, after..." He trailed off and gestured vaguely to the wrecked ball of a human that was currently Jeremy Knox. "I mean, I know it's not for everyone. Kevin always preferred vodka, but that's even worse for your diet than hot chocolate. Don’t even get me started on Neil."

 

Jeremy stared for a moment more, still questioning if he'd actually woken up at all. Why was Jean suddenly talking? And helping? And _caring_? Was he ill? Sleep deprived? Had something happened in therapy? Jeremy shoved the questions aside and got off the bed. He was too tired to question it—he was going to let Jean make him a hot chocolate, drink it, and then go back to bed. His chest felt lighter, and his hands had stopped shaking, and Jean’s inadvertent forgiveness still echoed in his head.

 

Maybe he would finally be able to get some sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So overseas holidays and Christmas apparently are not conducive to writing... I would try to promise to update more regularly buuut if I haven't gotten my life together by now it's probably not going to happen... This chapter was particularly delayed because dream sequences are awful. 
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE COMMENTS AND KUDOS, they give me life, and I'm going to go through the comments and reply to them all super soon!
> 
> Once again thank you to [Rachel Ren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars) my beautiful beta who read through this from her sickbed <3<3
> 
> Also feel free to check me out on [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/)


	5. But Know That The Sun Always Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy does some explaining and Jean makes tea.

The sun was high by the time Jeremy woke up. He looked around the room blearily. Everything looked odd in the bright beams of sunshine flooding in through the window. Jeremy tried to remember the last time he'd seen the room during the day—maybe for five minutes here or there while grabbing his gear?

 

Jean's bed was emptied and had already been made, and the door to their living area was shut. Jeremy slowly stood up. He still felt tired, but the exhausted, anxious energy from yesterday was gone. In its wake, he felt drained and oddly quiet, something akin to the feeling of recovering from a bad bout of flu. He yawned, stretched, took the risk of changing clothes in the bedroom instead of hiding in the bathroom, and finally shuffled out to face the world.

 

Jean was sitting with a cup of coffee—which looked decidedly like it had gone cold several hours ago—and fiddling with his phone. He looked up when Jeremy came in, wariness in his eyes. Jeremy wasn't sure if it was Jean's normal wariness, or if he was worried Jeremy would randomly fall apart and force him to help pick up the pieces all over again.

 

"Morning," Jeremy said, trying to infuse the word with a reassurance that he wasn't about to start a string of unending and nonsensical apologies, or sobbing, or anything else ridiculous. His accompanying smile was small and tired, but it didn't hold the fake cheer of yesterday, and he hoped Jean saw and understood. After last night, there wasn't any point trying to put on a brave face, so this was just Jeremy, doing the best he could.

 

Jean's gaze flickered to his eyes as he returned the greeting, before turning back to his phone as Jeremy muddled around the kitchen making toast and coffee. He made a fresh cup for Jean as well, because honestly, the skin on Jean's old one was grossing him out.

 

"Here, a hot one," Jeremy said as he passed Jean the cup on his way to sit down. Jean gave him a look but accepted it with thanks anyway.

 

Jeremy sat and ate and waited for Jean to say something. When he had finished his toast and was halfway through a bowl of cereal he'd gone and gotten with another cup of coffee—which Jean had decidedly side eyed—he finally decided that Jean was not going to say anything and that it was down to him.

 

"Soooo," he started awkwardly. "Are we going to talk about last night? Or not?"

 

Jean gave him an indefinable look, squinting slightly. Jeremy wasn't used to this much eye contact from him and found himself quite unnerved by it.

 

"Do you want to talk about last night? I don't really want to pry," Jean said in the end.

 

"I mean, I feel like if you're woken up by your roommate's screaming in the middle of the night you're entitled to a few questions. And I pretty much forced you to talk after that panic attack, so it's only fair."

 

Jean rubbed his temples. "You are literally the only person that would ever divulge personal information because it's _fair_."

 

"But... it is," Jeremy retorted weakly.

 

Jean made a derisive sound. "So your last roommate never made a big deal about you talking in your sleep?"

 

"Not really. Occasionally he'd throw a pillow at me, or yell 'shut the fuck up' from his bed, and that was that."

 

"Was he a heavy sleeper?" Jean asked looking skeptical.

 

"Uh, yeah? I guess? Why?"

 

"Well, between you screaming in your sleep and diving out of bed like you're literally being chased by wolves—at what I'm led to believe is, by normal standards, an ungodly hour of the morning—I don't think you've had a decent night’s sleep since I got here." The further into the sentence he got, the more Jean seemed to shrink in on himself, bracing, as if Jeremy was going to explode at him for having an opinion.

 

Jeremy opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, sighed, ran his hand through his hair, allowing himself to tug it slightly before lowering it again. "I didn't realise I was being that disruptive. I'm-"

 

"Please don't apologise again," Jean cut him off, then twitched, in a suppressed flinch, and lowered his eyes to where his hands were resting on the table. Jeremy closed his eyes so he didn't have to watch Jean waiting again for Jeremy to perform unspeakable acts that he would never have even thought about. He was more stable than yesterday, but it was still bordering on what he could cope with.

 

"Yeah, guess I've traumatised you with that enough," Jeremy tried to laugh—it sounded more like a wheeze—and he sighed. "Ok. Brief summary, since I feel the need to get you up to speed to ease my own conscience, whether you care or not. I often have nightmares, it's been a thing since I was quite young. When I'm really stressed they get worse, and if I'm really, really stressed I can also have panic attacks. And in general, everything’s been piling up, so you've copped more of it than Avery ever did." Jeremy paused to take a gulping breath—no one knew this, no one knew _any_ of this, even Alvarez who had walked in on one of his episodes didn't know much more than what she'd seen. He felt exposed.

 

Jean took this moment to ask, "Do they affect your exy? How do you manage the stress during a game?" and Jeremy felt like laughing. Of _course_ this was what Jean would think about first.

 

"No, no, it's not really exy stress—well, not exactly, and I've never had issues during a game, usually the stress catches up to me in private. Panic attacks are rare and usually private." _Usually I have them curled up on the floor of the shower._

 

"So your last roommate never saw them?" Jean asked. Jeremy thought it was a bit of a tangential question, but wasn't going to point this out—it was so unusual for Jean to ask him anything.

 

"Nope, never." An image of Jeremy curled around the toilet bowl, with a curious Avery standing over him flashed through his mind— _but he thought that was the stomach flu,_ Jeremy reasoned. He refused to think about the morning with Alvarez just a few weeks before Kevin approached him about Jean.

 

"So then, last night was because of me?"

 

 _Yes_. "No!" _How do you know that?_ "Of course not!"

 

"Well, I was the one that woke you up, so clearly I set you off."

 

Jeremy sighed in relief. Jean's eyes flicked towards the exits. "It was just bad timing. I'm used to thrown pillows, not hands on my shoulder. I panicked. I thought it was.... someone dangerous, someone from my nightmare.” Jeremy hoped Jean didn't notice his pause; he'd made a face at the word _dangerous_ , as if he was disagreeing with something Jeremy had said.

 

"So throwing stuff at you is better than touching you?"

 

"Uh, yeah, apparently. In all honesty, this is news to me as well." Jean gave him an incredulous look. God, Jeremy was so fucked up, when had human contact become such an issue? His asshole brain briefly reminded him of the marks covering his wrists, and the insides of his thighs. _Oh, probably then, okay, that makes sense I guess._

 

"Right, okay. I won't touch you again. I'm sorry, I should have known," Jean apologised, looking down at his clasping and unclasping hands.

 

"How?" Jeremy asked, unsettled. "I just told you, even I didn't know."

 

"Okay, but-" Jean started.

 

"No, seriously," Jeremy cut him off, regretting it instantly when Jean jerked violently in his chair. Trying to soften his voice, he continued, "You didn't do anything wrong, all you did was try to help."

 

Jean looked up, expression suspicious. "You're really not mad? This isn't a trick? You're not going to wait and punish me for this later?"

 

Jeremy felt the cereal he'd just eaten try to force its way back up. "No, _no_ , Jean, I'm not going to punish you for it later. I'm never going to punish you at all. That's not-" he swallowed thickly, pausing to make sure he had his gag reflex under control before he began again. "That's not how the Trojans work, that's not how _I_ work. If you do something wrong, we'll talk and sort it out. If you do something _really_ wrong, maybe you'll be benched for a game, but only if it's exy related. Between us, outside the court, in this apartment, if something happens we'll talk, give each other space, apologise. I'll _never_ punish you for it."

 

Jean looked doubtful, but instead of questioning it he swallowed—looking like he was going to say something—closed his mouth again and nodded jerkily.

 

They sat in silence for a while. Jeremy thought that was the end of the conversation but wasn't really sure what to do next, so continued to fiddle with his now empty coffee cup. Finally, feeling the need to break the silence, he asked, "So Kevin likes to drink?"

 

One side of Jean's mouth lifted slightly, the very vaguest impression of a smirk. It was the closest to actually amused Jeremy had seen him, and he tried and failed not to stare. "He'll hate me for telling you this—he has the biggest exy-crush on you—but yeah, he's a complete lush."

 

Jeremy mustered a laugh, trying to see the humour and not all the broken humans Riko had left in his wake. "And Josten? You mentioned him last night, what does he do?"

 

Jean pulled a face. "He lights cigarettes."

 

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "Josten smokes? Really? And he still manages to run that fast?"

 

"Non, he doesn't smoke, he just lights them, I mean it's the same as smoking I guess, but less?" Jean looked as mystified as Jeremy felt. "Said they reminded him of his mother. But they were Freaky Minyard's cigarettes so I wonder if it was more that."

 

Jeremy remembered their odd intimacy on the couch when he went to talk to Kevin. "They do seem quite close."

 

"Do they? Last I saw, Josten was weirdly attached, considering he was sure Minyard hated him. They are quite honestly the strangest pairing I've ever seen."

 

It took Jeremy a little while to process what Jean had said. "Pairing? Wait, _they're_ soulmates? How do you even know?"

 

"Josten spent some time with the Ravens last winter. It became pretty clear. Caused Riko some, uh, problems." Jean sort of shut down halfway through the sentence, posture becoming rigid, eyes returning to his hands. Jeremy had the impression he'd said something wrong, but other than Riko's name, he wasn't really sure what.

 

He was curious about Josten and Riko, but instead of asking more, tried to move the conversation on from the Ravens and Riko. "You're right, I don't see it. I mean, I've seen it but it makes no sense."

 

Jean relaxed marginally and made a mildly amused sound, Jeremy was stunned. "It's a whole lot of fucked up in a very small package deal."

 

"I feel sorry for anyone on any of their PR teams in the future," Jeremy chuckled. "I'm not sure if I'm more surprised about that or the fact Josten 'lights cigarettes'." They trailed off into silence, although for once it was relaxed rather than strained.

 

Eventually, Jean got up and put the kettle on. Jeremy wasn't entirely sure he should have another coffee, but he didn't stop Jean when he reached for his empty cup. As Jean busied himself in the kitchen he finally spoke again. "So Kevin drinks, Josten smokes—do you have any poor coping mechanisms I should know of?"

 

Jeremy wondered if he actually had any coping techniques at all, good or bad. He wondered if denial and a ridiculous number of early mornings at the gym counted. "Fear not, nothing that'll mess up my exy career." It was meant to be a joke, but it sounded so sad Jeremy tried to distract from it. "You like to drink hot chocolate after a panic attack?" and remembering Jean's panic attack in his first week, "and space?"

 

Jean came back to the table, and Jeremy was glad to see he'd made tea instead of coffee. Jean waited until he was sitting and comfortable to reply, making a face into his tea. "I'd say space is more necessary. I like the hot chocolate, I guess it helps, but without space, I struggle to calm down."

 

Jeremy nodded his understanding. "Yeah, I guess I'm kind of the opposite? Physical contact or company usually helps," he paused, considering. "Just not to wake me up I guess."

 

"I admit to some confusion last night when you wanted me to stay after freaking you out."

 

"Sorry about that," Jeremy winced at the unintentional apology. "I didn't mean to guilt you into looking after me, I wasn't really thinking."

 

Jean shrugs, "it was easier than trying to deal with a drunk Kevin." He paused, then added quietly, "I don't mean to be a bad guy. I don't want to cause harm, I want to help where I can."

 

"I didn't me-" Jeremy started, but cut himself off—sometimes you had to know when to take what you were given. "Thanks, I appreciate it. You really helped last night."

 

At that acknowledgement, Jean's face softened slightly, and he looked younger and smaller. Jeremy just wanted to bundle him up and protect him from everyone, everything bad in the world, any god that would dare to do harm to someone as defenceless as Jean.

 

Jeremy ran over the conversation, feeling overall pretty pleased with how it had gone, but then realized- "Wait, I wake you up all the time? Like, it would have to be on a regular basis if you know how little sleep I get, right? Do you need me to like, sleep out here? I can move the bed out, no worries."

 

Jeremy wasn't really sure how he expected Jean to react, but it certainly wasn't to look sheepish. "Uh, well you don't wake me up that often, really. I don't sleep much. Really, it's a few hours here, a few hours there." Jeremy studied the dark smudges under Jean's eyes and believed it.

 

Jeremy wanted to ask why Jean didn't sleep—was he still on Ravens’ timetables? Did he have as many nightmares as Jeremy did? Was he scared of sleeping in the same room as Jeremy? But he didn't want to push, so he instead rephrased his last question. "Would it be better if I slept out here anyway? So I don't wake you when you have managed to fall asleep?"

 

Jean shrugged noncommittally, one of his preferred methods of avoiding having an actual opinion. Jeremy felt insides shrivel slightly, and he looked down and fiddled with his empty cup to stop Jean from seeing. But then Jean took a deep breath.

 

"In all honesty?" It sounded more like he was asking Jeremy's permission than the usual rhetorical nature of the phrase. Jeremy found himself nodding as he looked up. "Your weird sleeping schedule is actually okay for me. Mostly I find it easier to sleep when you're in the room, sometimes I can't, and I know I can get a couple of hours of safe sleep once you've gone. No offence."

 

"No," Jeremy tried to reassure him, "that's fine, I understand." Truthfully, though, his emotions were mixed—the fact that Jean was scared to sleep in his presence was a blow, but hearing that most of a time he made things easier lent him a small oasis of calm. "Though, maybe we can loosen things up a little? With my sleep at the moment, I think I sort of need to crash when I'm tired, which is way earlier than you need. I don't want you feeling like you have to go to bed when I do. We can leave the door open if you want the company, but feel free to continue living your life rather than being stuck in bed for hours when you're not going to sleep."

 

Jean nodded, although he looked slightly pained. "I'll see what I can do," he agreed eventually.

 

Jeremy hesitated at his next point, feeling as though he was pushing his luck, but really, he needed to ask. "And maybe we can be a bit more flexible with training times?" Before letting Jean respond, he quickly added. "We'll get the same amount in each day, but if I haven't woken up and gone to the gym I probably need to get my sleep where I can? Or if I exhaust myself at the gym? I think it would help overall."

 

Jean's face looked positively sour—Jeremy knew both suggestions went against the Raven's way of life—but he _needed_ more sleep. Slowly, Jean's face relaxed into something more thoughtful. "Is that what happened yesterday?"

 

"What?" Jeremy asked, once again lost by the sudden swerve in conversation.

 

"You were weird all yesterday. I thought I'd done something to make you mad... But you were basically normal with me, just, I don't know, spacey? Was it just lack of sleep?" Jean looked terrified to be asking but managed to push through.

 

"Uh, mostly I think. I hadn't slept the night before; one of my friends told me something that kept me up," Jeremy tried to keep his answer vague. "So I was put out by that, and then with no sleep, just dealing with everything became harder."

 

Jean nodded, eyes still wider than normal. "I guess we can try to relax the schedule." His shoulders firmed up. "But we can't sacrifice training time. I'm still nowhere near peak."

 

* * *

 

Jeremy wasn't really sure what had changed, but after that conversation, things improved. It was small and it was slow and often it was one step forward, two steps back, but in comparison to the weeks prior, there was actual change. Well, at least in Jeremy's opinion. 

 

It took a while, and several long phone conversations—Jeremy wasn't quite sure, but they seemed to be split between Jean's psychiatrist and someone Jeremy assumed was a non-Raven friend of Jean's, although his mind boggled at the thought—but Jean started to extend the times he would stay up when Jeremy needed to sleep. Sometimes he would stay up for hours, sometimes it was only five minutes, but Jeremy reasoned that even that was something. They did start leaving the bedroom door open basically all the time, as a symbol that roaming between the two rooms was always allowed—this was a suggestion from Jean's psychologist— and it did seem to help. Jeremy also suspected it helped Jean feel less alone.

 

Jeremy still wasn't sleeping enough, but less pressure to keep a timetable that was only suitable for Jean meant he was catching enough sleep to remain functional. He was still up at unreasonable times of the morning most days, although he was working on not just sprinting from the room but establishing more of a routine around it. Unfortunately, his success in this endeavour was heavily affected by the severity of his nightmares.

 

The biggest relief to Jeremy was that suddenly—and he wasn't entirely sure why—living with Jean felt a lot more like what he had grown to expect from shared dorms. Rather than two people standing on opposite sides of an insurmountable crevasse surrounded by icy tundra; or two chunks of debris in the same orbit, circling but never meeting, Jeremy felt more like he was actually living with _someone_.

 

Jean had started waking Jeremy up from noisy nightmares by calling his name until he responded—apparently throwing a pillow was not Jean's style. When Jean thought Jeremy was particularly shaken he would get up and make them both hot chocolate and they would sit at the table companionably until Jeremy felt like returning to bed or going to the gym.

 

Jeremy, in return, would make Jean hot chocolates on Jean's bad days. He would leave them somewhere in his general vicinity and then retreat to a greater distance, or even the other room. It didn't really seem to reduce the severity of Jean's panic, but at least Jeremy felt like he was doing something, small or not.

 

Then one day, towards the end of break, Jeremy stumbled out of bed and started preparing to go to the gym. Jean's bed was still empty, as it had been when Jeremy went to bed, and Jeremy figured it was one of the nights Jean hadn't felt up to sleeping in with Jeremy nearby. He tried not to focus on the sting and instead on the progress that Jean had made by not forcing himself to lie down and pretend to sleep, but instead remaining in the living room.

 

Jeremy quickly changed into gym gear and, still groggy but definitely not willing to try sleeping again with Riko's laughter still echoing in the back of his mind, stumbled out into the living room. He expected to find Jean on his laptop watching old exy tapes, or perhaps reading a book as he did now and then. In fact, Jean's laptop was on the table and there was an exy tape paused, but Jean himself was hovering in the doorway of the kitchen, sort of looking like he wanted Jeremy's attention.

 

All of this seemed a bit weird, and Jeremy paused on his way to the front door, barely out of the bedroom. "Everything okay here?" he asked, unsure if this was one of those times Jean needed space, or if this was something else he was inadequately prepared to deal with.

 

Jean had an odd expression on his face, seemingly caught somewhere between sheepish and bemused. Then he looked down and back up and said hesitantly, "I, uh, made tea?"

 

Jeremy was so caught up in trying to figure out if Jean was okay that he hadn't actually gotten past his face, and only now noticed that Jean was holding two steaming mugs. "Oh," he stated dumbly. "Oh!" he managed again as he finally wrapped his mind around the situation. "Thank you! That's amazing!" He tried not to actually exclaim, but he was pretty sure it came out overly loud and cheery for this time in the morning. Nevertheless, something in Jean's posture seemed to ease and his expression moved towards relieved.

 

Jeremy strode forward and sat down with Jean at the table. Jean's face took on a look of satisfaction. "I know you don't eat before you leave, but I sometimes hear you making tea, or coffee, I'm not sure. I thought I'd make it easier, since I was already up." Something in Jean's expression wavered. "I hope I wasn't overstepping."

 

Jeremy waved him off with his free hand as he took a sip of the tea. Swallowing, he dismissed, "Don't be ridiculous. This is amazing." The tea was hot and sweet, but Jeremy doubted that was the reason his chest felt so incredibly warm for the rest of the day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update in less than two months? It's a miracle! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who leaves kudos and comments, particularly the comments are such great motivation to get back to work on the latest chapter <3
> 
> The next chapter might actually have other characters with spoken roles! Isn't that exciting?
> 
> A huge thank you to [Rachel Ren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars) for betaing me <3
> 
> Also feel free to check me out on [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/)


	6. The Winds Did Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy and Alvarez go for lunch and Jean makes some noise

The closer it got to the rest of the Trojan's arriving for the new academic year, the more uneasy Jeremy became. Jean and he were finally, _finally_ starting to find some sort of rhythm together but Jeremy couldn't imagine the fragile stability they had finally found would hold up to the stress of regular practice, classes and a tonne of noisy, loud, well-meaning Trojans perpetually hovering.

 

Beyond his more selfish concerns about his life being once again eroding into chaos and sleep deprivation, there was also the broader matter of Jean and the Trojans. Jeremy knew that Jean's expectations of a first class exy team and the Trojan's approach were incompatible, more so Jeremy knew that Jean as a human and the Trojans was a match forced by the sheer desperation of everyone involved. Jeremy held no illusions that Jean's morose, snide personality would be anything but an uncomfortable fit within the Trojan's upbeat and caring dynamic. In short, Jeremy was expecting the integration process to be nothing short of a disaster and was praying that the issues with Jean and the Team didn't become problems with Jean and Jeremy as well.

 

Despite his fervent wishes for the summer to go on just a bit longer—for the ground under his and Jean's feet to be more stable before moving onto the next hurdle—unfortunately, time, as it does, forged on unswayed and unrelenting and all too soon Jeremy found himself making sure Jean was going to be alright in the dorm on his own for a few hours, before leaving to pick Alvarez up from the airport. Jean insisted he would be all right, barely looked up from the exy tape that he'd watched so often Jeremy wouldn't be surprised if he could recite it word for word. Jeremy was unconvinced even at Jean's reassurance but reasoned with himself that Jean wouldn't be alone for all of that time, he had a psych appointment in the middle of it. Still feeling like he was abandoning his charge, Jeremy regretfully left.

 

The drive to the LAX, in reality, should have been just under half an hour but with Los Angeles traffic an hour was a much more realistic estimate. For Jeremy, it felt even longer; he found the silence in his car so oppressive he spent most of it with the radio on an obnoxious at what he would normally consider an uncomfortably loud level. Belatedly, he realised this was the furthest he had been away from Jean since the former Raven had arrived at USC. The realisation that in such a short amount of time he'd gone from barely knowing Jean to finding his absence unsettling made Jeremy feel... Decidedly green. He yet again felt the sensation of being in over his head yet he was still diving, further and further into an abyss and he wasn't sure he had enough air left to get out.

 

As he pulled into the waiting bays out front of the airport and grabbed his phone to let Alvarez know he was here Jeremy tried to push all thoughts of Jean and his personal folly out of his head. Despite his reservations about Jean and the team Jeremy was looking forward to having Alvarez around and didn't want her worrying about him when he knew how much she was struggling with the Laila fiasco.

 

Eventually, Alvarez stumbled out of the terminal and Jeremy understood what had taken her so long, she was burdened with at least three large suitcases and apparently had been unable to obtain a luggage trolley. Jeremy popped the boot and jumped out to help her make the final few yards.

 

"I made it this far I can make it the rest of the way," Alvarez grumbled as he grabbed two of what turned out to be four bags.

 

Jeremy laughed, glad to hear anything remotely resembling rebuke that wasn't immediately followed by the assumption Jeremy was going to lash out. "I know you could, but I want to get lunch before it's dinner time."

 

Alvarez pokes her tongue out at him, and he ignores it as he waltzes of towards his car.

 

They crush all of Alvarez's luggage in the back of Jeremy's tiny hatchback, Jeremy questioning how much stuff one person could possibly need and Alvarez quite colourfully insulting the size and integrity of Jeremy's car. Finally, in the car, Jeremy navigates them out of the turmoil that is LAX and pulls into some weird chicken and waffle house hybrid diner that Alvarez insisted was the perfect combination of everything.

 

A harassed looking twenty-something showed a booth, poured them coffee and gave them menus before bustling off to another table. Jeremy now had time to inspect Alvarez. While she was distracted by the menu, Jeremy peered at her over his own menu.  She looked tired, there were dark circles under her eyes, in fact, her face looked thinner, not quite gaunt but like it could be if she didn't start eating better soon, even her posture, typically straight and proud, was slightly bent in exhaustion, or defeat.

 

Jeremy gently nudges Alvarez foot with his own. She looks up from the menu, startled. "Leave it, we all know you're going to get whichever waffle stack has the most toppings and a side of fries. Tell me how things are going."

 

"You're right, we all know I'm only here for the sugar." Alvarez sighs. She puts the menu down and grabs her cup of coffee, cradling it in her hands like she needed the warmth, despite the Californian summer that was slowly melting the tarmac outside. "Things are good, mum's great, I reckon she took us hiking on every trail in Virginia, but I mean that's too be expected. Dad's good, still busy with work. He's almost all grey now. It's so strange to see! He looks like a grandpa!" She laughed.

 

Jeremy smiled and let her natter away for a while before finally pushing the point. "But how are things going with Laila? Did you sort anything out?"

 

Alvarez's cheerful mask cracked, underneath was the sorrowful expression of the broken hearted.

 

"You don't have to answer that. Sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Jeremy rapidly tried to backtrack.

 

She waved him off, although she didn't quite manage to pull on the cheery smile of before. "No, no, it's fine. It's good to have someone to talk to in all honesty. It's times like these that having a sibling would come in handy I'm sure," she tried to lighten things up with a joke.

 

"I don't know, I have three, and they're all useless with this kind of stuff," Jeremy smiled.

 

Alvarez made a dismissive sound, "how would you know? You've never needed to go to them for advice!"

 

"But I hear the advice they give each other! It's awful!" Jeremy protested.

 

"Okay, okay," Alvares conceded, holding her hands up in surrender. "I'll take your word on it."

 

Jeremy nudged her foot under the table again and raised his eyebrows at her.

 

She sighed. "Everythings a shit show," she eloquently summarised before the waitress interrupted them with two huge plates of waffles—Jeremy had caved and bought waffles as well, not knowing when the next time he would be able to eat free of Jean's judgement would be.

 

When the waitress was gone Jeremy reached out and gently put his hand over Alvarez's and told her, "I'm sorry for whatever's going on, you don't deserve it." She smiled, and Jeremy was shocked to see she was close to tears, Alvarez was not a girl that cried, ever.

 

"It's just all shit," she reiterated. "Nothing's been right since we figured it out. Everything was fine! And we were happy! And then _bam_ SOULMATES and its like we don't even know each other, and it's all falling apart around our ears, and no matter how fast I try and pull it back together it just keeps crumbling."

 

She dropped her face into her hand and massaged the spot between her eyebrows with her thumb. "A lot of the time I find myself wishing we'd never discovered it, how fucked up is that?" Jeremy's stomach gave the same sensation it would if he'd walked off a cliff unexpectedly.

 

There was a roaring in his ears. He knew it Alvarez needed his support, but all he could think about as she said she wished she'd never found out was a distraught Jean’s distraught face as he cried _why would you tell me this?_ Then his mind summoned an image of Jean as he walked out the door bags packed _I wish I never knew, I wish you hadn't told me_. And for a second Jeremy had to just focus on getting air in and out of his lungs.

 

_I can't tell him. I can't let him leave. I can't. I won't. Ok, breath, yeah that’s it. You can't do this right now Jeremy, look at Alvarez, she needs you, deal with this later._

 

Doing his best to pull back together, Jeremy again rested his hand over Alvarez's. "You and Laila have always been such close friends, I'm sure you guys will be able to figure this out."

 

Alvarez looks up and runs her free hand through her hair, "I don't know Jer. Neither of us has handled this... well. I'm not sure if we could make it back to where we were before, even if we both wanted to."

 

Gently patting her hand, Jeremy said, "look people handle things badly and say shit thy don't mean in the heat of the moment all the time. Whatever else may be going on you and Laila have a long friendship based on love and support, you'll make it through I'm sure. And I know it's a shit fallback, but if it makes you feel any better, you'll always have me. No matter what happens between you and Laila."

 

"Thanks, Jeremy. I just really don't know what to do. I never expected this. It's like all those romance movies but gone horribly wrong." Alvarez looked like she was struggling not to break out into tears then and there and had no idea how to help.

 

"Hey, it's not the end of the movie yet, you're just in the part where it looks like its all over! There's still time for one of those emotional montages where the characters all resolve to work everything out, and then there's a reunion, and magically all their problems solve themselves!" Jeremy tried not to picture himself forcing cheer down Alvarez's throat, but he did feel like he was coming off disgustingly optimistic.

 

Alvarez gave a wet chuckle even as she removed her hand from Jeremy's so she could grab her fork and shovel syrup saturated waffles into her mouth. "Fine! Fine! But I draw the line at some sort of cliqued airport scene!" And the moment was gone. They moved on to lighter topics, like her mother somehow not seeing the clump of poison ivy until she had fallen into it and Jeremy felt his life slip into a familiarity it had lacked since the end of the fall semester. He knew this was far from the end of the dramas he or Alvarez were likely to face in the coming months with both their soulmate issues but at least through the looming darkness they had each other.

 

* * *

 

It was later than Jeremy would have liked when he finally left Alvarez at her dorm with her bags and headed up the stairs to his room. He knew Alvarez needed support and hadn't wanted to rush her, but he felt guilty for leaving Jean for so long. 

 

Opening the door Jeremy was greeted with a cacophony of noise, so disjointed he felt as if his senses were being assaulted. Walking in it took him time to discern all the sounds. The TV was blaring some crappy daytime talk show, Jean had plugged his phone into Jeremy's portable speakers, Jeremy was pretty sure there was a radio on in the bedroom and Jean had left his laptop open and playing an exy match at full volume. There was, however, no sign of Jean.

 

Jeremy quickly glanced in the bathroom to make sure Jean wasn't doing a Jeremy and curled up in the shower.  Jeremy moved to the bedroom. He fought a relieved sigh when he saw a tuft of Jean's dark hair poking out of the cocoon of blankets on his bed. Jeremy opened his mouth to ask Jean what was wrong or try and offer help but noticed the cocoon was shaking slightly as if its inhabitant was trembling. Jeremy recognised that this might be one of those times when he needed to give Jean space, despite what his instincts were telling him.

 

He resisted a sigh and went back into the living room. Jeremy knew that Jean probably had all the noise to try and feel less alone, but Jeremy just couldn't cope with all the discordant clamour. He turned off the speakers and turned down the television, but decided he could suffer through the chat show and the exy game at the same time.

 

Settling back in after being out Jeremy tried to make as much noise as possible as he wandered from bathroom to living room to kitchen. Although it was early, he decided to start cooking dinner now just to give himself a reason to be making noise. He clanged pots and pans, left the water running longer than needed, decided to make vegetable soup for entree which needed the blender. He even hummed while he worked—any song that Jeremy could think of he would hum it.

 

Running out of things that would keep him immediately active in the kitchen Jeremy switched on the kettle, patting himself on the back for the extra noise he hadn't thought about before. When it had finished boiling, he grabbed out two mugs. In his own he scooped in instant coffee grounds and a generous helping of sugar and to the other, he added two spoons of cocoa powder and half a teaspoon of sugar. Finally, he grabbed milk from the fridge and added a generous dollop to both mugs.

 

Putting his own cup on the dining table, Jeremy took the other to the bedroom. From what Jeremy could tell the lump of blankets that was Jean had stopped trembling but other than that had made no change since he'd come in when he arrived. Trying to be as unintrusive as possible Jean quietly walked over to Jean's side of the room and left the hot chocolate on the desk next to his bed head. Hopefully Jean would see it as he began to resurface and it would ease him out of whatever mood had caught him more gently than otherwise. Jeremy exited the room as quietly as he'd come in and went back to the kitchen.

 

When Jeremy could no longer think of ways to prolong his time in the kitchen he returned to his now lukewarm coffee. Sitting at the table, he pulled his phone out and scrolled through his social media, which was about all he could focus on with the chatter filling the room from multiple devices.

 

Half an hour later Jeremy had made it through both his facebook and twitter feed and was scrolling aimlessly through Instagram when Jean wandered out of the bedroom. Jeremy smiled upon seeing him although his heart hurt at the defeated slump of his shoulders and exhaustion in his eyes.

 

Jeremy's smile gained some integrity when he saw Jean clutched the mug of what could no longer be hot chocolate in his hands. Jean drifted over to the table and slumped in the chair opposite Jeremy.

 

"Want me to make you a warmer drink? Yours must be cold by now," Jeremy began.

 

Jean looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language. The silence stretched for so long Jeremy was starting to wonder if he needed to repeat the question when Jean finally gave him a jerky nod and relinquished his hold on the mug. Jeremy was slow taking it, not wanting to startle a clearly quite off-balanced Jean.

 

Taking both Jean's mug and his into the kitchen, Jeremy makes them both cups of hot chocolate. He was hoping that the time it took would give Jean an opportunity to 'wake up' a bit, but he's sitting almost exactly how Jeremy had left him, down to the hands still resting awkwardly on the table having let go of his mug. Jeremy gently places the mug between the hands.

 

"Careful, it's a bit hot still."

 

Jean slowly moves his hands, so they're loosely wrapped around the cup, not grasping it, in fact barely cradling it. Jeremy wonders if it's because of his warning or if Jean just lacks the energy to hold the mug properly.

 

Trying to give Jean space Jeremy returns to his Instagram feed. There is still sound blaring from multiple devices in the room, but Jeremy doesn't go and turn them off just in case they're helping Jean.

 

It feels like an age, but realistically Jermy knows it can't have been more than a quarter of an hour when Jean shifts and taking his mug more firmly in his hands brings it to his lips to have the first sip.

 

These slow, seemingly absent-minded, sips continue for a good twenty minutes and from the corner of his eye Jeremy thinks that Jean is starting to look a little more rooted in reality as time progresses.

 

Finally Jean puts down the now empty mug and sighs.

 

Jeremy looks up from his phone and asks, "want another cup? or are you good?"

 

Jean meets his gaze, the dark bags under his eyes adding to his beaten demeanour. "A grown man should be able to be in an apartment alone for a few hours without having a complete breakdown," he says instead of answering Jeremy's question.

 

Jeremy opened his mouth to try and reassure Jean, but before he could say anything, Jean continued. "It's pathetic! Look at all this!" He waves his hand at the TV and laptop, then to the empty hot chocolate mug in front of him. "All this because it was _too quiet_? Becoming a completely useless lump because I didn't have my 'minder' with me for a couple of hours? Pathetic," he sneers at himself.

 

There was a twinge in Jeremy's chest at the derisive way Jean says _minder_. He hopes he doesn't come across as some pathetic carer that Jean has to tolerate too often, hopes that Jean knows he's there because he wants to be not because it's his job or something. He's not sure what to do to calm Jean down, he hasn't seen this bitter, angry side of Jean properly before, occasional glimpses in offhanded comments and flares of temper but not like this.

 

Deciding this is a time for a direct approach Jeremy asks, "Jean when was the last time you were properly alone?"

 

Jean paused. "Abby's."

 

"Did Abby ever leave the house while you were there?"

 

"No, I don't think so."

 

"Ok, so before that then, when was the last time you were properly alone, with absolutely no one you knew in your vicinity?"

 

Jean's eyes grew slightly distant, and some of the angry tension left his shoulders. "France," he answered eventually. Jean thought he caught a wistful longing in his voice.

 

"And how long ago was that?"

 

"When I was thirteen." Yep, definitely wistful. Jeremy started piecing together a timeline in his head, Jean was slightly older than him, so the worsening of Jeremy's Marks when he was 12 would coincide with Jean moving to America and living with Riko and Kevin, but he remembered his parent's concerns about his marks starting much earlier than that. Jeremy's soul ached. Had Jean ever known proper love and affection? He wondered if his parent's abuse would even register to Jean these days, or was that normal to him? Was the wistful tone sweet memories of a time when he was abused less? Jeremy cut off his train of thought firmly; he wasn't going to get these answers today, so there was no point in upsetting himself further with these questions.

 

"The human brain gets used to things when I was a kid my room was next to the laundry; we were a busy family and my parents were always putting on loads of wash when I was already in bed. Eventually, we moved, and my bedroom was on the opposite side of the house from the laundry. I couldn't sleep for weeks; it just wasn't right without the noise. You've spent years in other people's company, it's going to take a while to learn how to cope without it. And you're not the only one, either, can you think of a time where you've seen Day without the scary Minyard?"

 

Jean's lips twitched slightly at Jeremy's story. "So all we need to do to get you a solid nights sleep is install a washing machine in the bedroom? That's doable you know."

 

Jeremy's heart always leapt when he saw glimpses of Jean's humour poking through, and he laughed. "If only it were that easy. We could charge people to wash their clothes, save them from going down to the washrooms and worrying about their underwear being stolen by some creep if they're not there for the entire time."

 

Jean chuckled, and Jeremy tried not to stare—with the endearing combination of ruffled bedhead and amused expression, Jeremy didn't know what to do with himself.

 

Jeremy hesitated, then continued. "On a more serious topic though, I'm sorry for leaving for so long, I knew it was a risk, and you suffered because of it." He didn't want to dampen the oddly high mood, but it needed to be said.

 

"It's not your fault, you didn't sign up to be the nanny of the nutcase," Jean tried to reassure, slumping back in his chair.

 

"I don't think of it as a job, I like to help when I can. And I definitely aim to make things easier on all my teammates no matter what that would be," Jeremy replied with a frown, he didn't notice that for once Jean didn't flinch away or backtrack as soon as Jeremy's expression darkened.

 

"Honestly, most of the time it's no work at all, I'm where I'd most like to be anyway." It was an odd sentence; half was a blatant lie and the other half more honest than Jeremy usually allowed himself to be. It was work looking after Jean, and it wore on Jeremy continually, but it was true he was exactly where he wanted to be, and he wouldn't swap it, he couldn't bare the thought of being separated from Jean for any extended period of time anymore. Just the thought of not knowing where Jean was, to not have visual proof that he was out of harm's way, made Jeremy shudder.

 

Jean didn't seem to have anything to say to that, and Jeremy wondered if he could sense his dishonesty, hoped that Jean assumed that Jeremy was happy to be at USC and near an exy court instead of by Jean's side. Jeremy was beginning to fret himself into a state when Jean, who'd been staring at his empty mug looked up.

 

"Do you ever shop at Daisy Town?"

 

Jeremy blinked the incongruity between his own thoughts and Jean's question made it hard to process properly. Daisy Town was a shopping complex near USC. "Uh not usually, it's a bit out of the way and kinda expensive with all its foreign produce. Why?"

 

"Oh," Jean said and looked back at the mug. "Don't worry about it then."

 

"No, seriously, why? Is there something you want from there?" Jeremy tried not to be too insistent, but his curiosity had been aroused, so far Jean hadn't shown any preference to where they shop or what they eat, and Jeremy was more than happy to go out of his way for it.

 

"Well, no offence, but this hot chocolate powder stuff... It is not good. And I remembered there's a particular French brand Kevin would occasionally order in, so I thought I'd have a look for it, and they don't stock it anywhere we usually go, but they have it at Daisy Town. I mean... it was just a thought, ignore it if you like this brand, or don't want to go, or for whatever reason." Jean's confidence in the question seemed to peter off the further he got into it, and by the time he stopped talking he'd shrunk in on himself, once again preparing for violent consequences that Jeremy wasn't going to deliver.

 

"Oh really! I've never really experimented much with hot chocolate brands, but I'm happy to give it a go! We can go to Daisy Town for our next shop, and you'll have to show me what you want!" _He wants something. He wants something! He'll tell me that he has a preference for something!_ Jeremy's head was screaming with joy.

 

Jean looked up, and his face was wary, expecting some sort of trap, but Jeremy just smiled at him, unable to hide his delight. Jean returned it with a small, tentative smile of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! A conversation that takes place between people other than Jeremy and Jean! Another character! Isn't this exciting? In all honesty, it was nice to write someone who wasn't my two broken boys, but it was actually really hard to write Alvarez as well... Anyway I hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> I'm actually about a quarter of the way through the next chapter so I'm hoping to get it up sooner than normal.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments! They always inspire me to try harder <3
> 
> As always thank you to [Rachel Ren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars) for telling me when I'm making no sense.
> 
> Come shout at me on tumblr: [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/)


	7. Seas Rise and Devour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean interrupts Jeremy's morning run and Alvarez comes for breakfast

Jeremy awoke with dread heavy in his stomach. It was the day the rest of the team would be turning up—Alvarez had arrived a day early because of flights. While Alvarez coming hadn't been the cause of Jean's last general breakdown, Jeremy had still linked the events in his mind. If that had been the result of only one person, who hadn't even _met_ Jean yet, Jeremy hated to think how bad things were going to get with the rest of the team here, and team practices, and socialising, and Jeremy being busy with team stuff, and, and, and... And Jeremy had to go to the gym.

 

Jeremy used to listen to music at the gym—he still did in some of his and Jean’s more regular workout sessions—but in his early morning marathons he left his headphones out and just focused on running, no distractions until he'd left the worst of his thoughts behind. So, he didn't really have an excuse for not noticing Jean walk up behind him, but he was so focused on just putting one foot in front of the other and the burn in his lungs that he was taken completely off guard when Jean's voice suddenly came from over his shoulder.

 

"So, this is where you hide."

 

"Aaaah!" Jeremy cried in shock. He jerked in surprise, throwing one arm out sideways to try and balance himself. Concentration broken, he lost his rhythm on the treadmill – he began to lose his pace and risked one of those accidents that went viral on Facebook. He managed to avoid falling forwards as his feet were nearly pulled out from underneath him, but slipping from the treadmill brought Jeremy to an unexpected stop, and his body quickly went from almost overbalancing one way to overbalancing the other. In fact, Jeremy would have overbalanced for sure, but instead of a hard impact on the carpeted ground, his momentum was stopped earlier than he expected by a warm and sturdy force.

 

Jean, with his exy honed reflexes, had seen Jeremy's impending doom and managed a half-lunge half-reach that caught Jeremy with a combination of arm and body. This position meant—with Jeremy's shorter stature—that he was leant back slightly, staring up at Jean, who was staring down at him, face alarmed.

 

The two men stared at each other in shock for a moment, until Jeremy saw the growing horror creeping over Jean's face and realised that he needed to do something to mitigate the situation before Jean entered full panic.

Jeremy laughed and righted himself. "Well! I'm glad one of us has coordination and good reflexes!"

 

"I- Sorry. I didn't mean to- It was my-" Jean looked like he was scrambling to figure out the best way to appease a Jeremy, who honestly was not upset. Jeremy fought the urge to roll his eyes and ignored the queasy sensation in his gut. Surely one day Jean would learn that Jeremy wasn't some sort of sadistic psychopath, hell-bent on finding reasons to cause Jean pain.

 

"Your fault? I mean, you startled me, but ask anyone, I'm a pretty jumpy creature. I'm also clumsy, almost dying on a treadmill was entirely my fault. Genuinely, I'm just glad you caught me!"

 

Jean ran a hand through his hair, apparently not quite sure what to make of Jeremy's response.

 

"Seriously, don't worry about it," Jeremy tried to reassure him. Jean still didn't look convinced, so Jeremy changed tack. "What are you doing down here, anyway?"

 

Jean shrugged. "Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd copy a page out of your book."

 

_Copy a page?_ Jeremy blinked. "You mean, take a leaf?"

 

"What?" Jean asked looking confused.

 

"You said 'copy a page'... The actual phrase is to take a leaf from someone's book," Jeremy explained.

 

Jean made an exasperated sound. "Why would you take a leaf? Copying a page makes sense because you're mimicking what someone else has done!"

 

"Hey, I don't make the sayings, that's just how they are," Jeremy said apologetically.

 

"Fucking English makes no sense," Jean muttered. Then, apparently having triggered himself, he suddenly lost focus, staring at the ground, and then suddenly flinched away from Jeremy. "Sorry! I didn't mean it!"

 

Jeremy took a step back and raised his hands, aiming to appear non-threatening while he tried to placate. "Hey now, no worries, English is ridiculous, even for native speakers. I can't imagine how difficult it would be when it's not your first language."

 

Jean stared at him like he'd grown another head. "Oh..." is all he had to say.

 

Jeremy stood there for a second, not sure what to do next. "Anyway, you keen for a bit of a run? I promise I won't try and catapult myself at you again."

 

"Yeah, sure, I'm not fussed," Jean acquiesced.

 

_I just didn't want to be alone_. Jeremy read between the lines, finally making sense of Jean's sudden appearance.

 

"Actually, thinking about it, I should probably finish up here, it won't be good if I completely wear myself out before everyone turns up."

 

"I'm fine with whatever you want."

 

_Just as long as it's not an opinion, right?_

 

Jeremy needed to stop these bitter thoughts. It wasn't Jean's fault—expressing opinions was a struggle for him, and Jeremy should be more supportive.

 

"C'mon then, let's go. I hear the coffee calling."

 

* * *

 

As they exited the lift, Jeremy and Jean found Alvarez in the process of turning away from their front door towards the stairs.

 

"Al!" Jeremy called out.

 

She turned around. "Oh, there you are! I was coming around to see if you wanted breakfast before all the craziness starts. Why are you even out of bed at this time?"

 

"I, ah, woke up with too much energy and decided to go for a run," Jeremy lied. Alvarez looked across at Jean and gave an affirmative nod that made it clear she didn't think it had been Jeremy's idea. He felt himself rankle slightly, but didn't say anything as he turned to Jean to see if he'd picked up on the subtle hostility. Jean was standing stiffly and matching Alvarez's less than friendly expression with a sour one of his own.

 

"Oh, c’mon guys, you're on the same team now. At least make a little effort in looking like you don't hate each other," he paused, considering, then added, "I'm assuming you guys have met formally before? Jean, this is Alvarez, our vice captain. Alvarez, Jean, our new backliner."

 

Alvarez sighed. "Jeremy, you do realise I have a first name right?"

 

"Oh," Jeremy said. "Yeah, right. Jean, this is _Sara_ , our vice-captain." The name felt wrong on his tongue. Ever since he'd known her, he'd called Alvarez by her last name. She'd introduced herself as Sara the first time they met, and then said to call her Alvarez, since she'd never liked Sara. Apparently, it sounded too soft.

 

Looking slightly uncomfortable herself, Alvarez added, "But please, call me Alvarez, I was just teasing Jeremy." Jeremy poked his tongue out at her.

 

Jean, on his part, hadn't relaxed much, but had at schooled his expression into something that looked bored rather than openly hostile. "Pleased to be formally introduced," he said, not sounding particularly pleased at all.

 

Jeremy sighed. "Okay, let's stop awkwardly hovering in the corridor. You wanted breakfast, Al?" he checked. She nodded. "Sweet, let's just eat here, though, I can't be bothered heading out yet; I'm going to be running around all day helping people get stocked up for the year." He turned to Jean. "We might even get a chance to go to Daisy Town today, but it depends on time and what people need."

 

Walking to the door and getting his keys out, he heard Alvarez behind him saying, "Ooooh, fancy." He rolled his eyes.

 

In his kitchen, he turned around—Alvarez had followed him in, and Jean was hovering slightly behind her, looking awkward yet still somewhat hostile. "So, what do people feel like? We have eggs and bacon, cereal and protein powder."

 

Alvarez began to chant, "Bacon! Bacon!" and Jeremy couldn't help but laugh. Jean looked slightly befuddled.

 

"What do you say, Jean? Bacon and eggs?"

 

Jean gave a shrug, which was what Jeremy expected, but he still found it depressing.

 

"How do you like your eggs?" He tried again for an opinion out of Jean. "Scrambled? Sunny side up?"

 

"Whatever you guys are doing," was Jean's bland response.

 

Alvarez snorted. "Who doesn't have a preference on how they do their eggs?"

 

Jean looked slightly pained, and Jeremy quickly jumped in before Alvarez could put more pressure on him. "I think we'll just do scrambled to make everything easier. My frying pan isn't big enough to do more than one egg comfortably at a time."

 

"That fucking frying pan. I swear to god if you don't replace it this year, I'm getting you a bigger one for your birthday," Alvarez threatened.

 

"But I don't need anything bigger!"

 

"I had to split our stir-fry into three lots the other day, Jeremy," Jean said dryly.

 

Alvarez turned around and pointed at him. "See!" she exclaimed, turning back to Jeremy, although she was still pointing at Jean, whose eyes had grown slightly wider in concern. He took a step away from Alvarez's finger. "You need a bigger frying pan, Jeremy!"

 

Usually, Jeremy would protest, or tell a friend off for calling him out when they started bugging him about the way he lived, but he didn't want to set Jean off, so he just held up his hands in surrender. "Fine! I'll get a bigger one! Happy?"

 

"Yes!" Alvarez exclaimed.

 

Jean didn't say anything as he folded his arms over his chest and stared at his feet. Clearly, he was worried he'd crossed a line. With Alvarez around, there wasn't much Jeremy could do to reassure him without drawing attention from Alvarez, so had to settle for drawing a smiley face in sauce on Jean's plate before handing it to him. Jean's eyebrows twitched slightly, and he gave Jeremy a look that clearly conveyed _Really? Am I five?_ but at least he was making eye contact again.

 

Breakfast was slightly stilted, with Jeremy and Alvarez talking about inconsequential events while aware of Jean sitting quietly and eating his eggs. Jeremy felt the weight of all that was unsaid weighing on him heavily. He could see Alvarez fiddling anxiously with her cutlery and knew she was apprehensive of Laila's arrival, and he knew Jean was still unsettled from yesterday and was probably only tolerating company over breakfast because he was worried Jeremy would leave with Alvarez if he made a fuss.

 

Further, he was distracted by the oddity of having both Jean and Alvarez not only in the same room, but at the same table eating food. It highlighted how separate he and Jean had been from the world over the summer break, and now everything was coming back together, Jeremy didn't know how to unite them. He wasn't sure how to bring Jean into the Trojans, nor was he sure if Jean would accept the Trojans into his own life.

 

_And what if he doesn't like who you are as a captain?_ asked a traitorous little voice in his head. That was another of Jeremy's major concerns—up until now he'd been trying to be Jean's friend, not his captain, but now pre-season training was starting up, Jeremy was going to have to find a way to be both, and he just wasn’t sure how to do that. What if he had to talk to Jean on the court? Would he be able to do it as a captain, strong and commanding, or was he going to slip back into the gentle cajoling he'd been using over the summer? Was Jean even going to respond to instructions from him? Would Jean freak out like he had that first day? What if Jeremy had to watch his drills to provide feedback? Would the Trojans notice if he dealt with Jean differently to the rest of them? Would they mind? Jeremy's thoughts spiralled tumultuously, conjuring one catastrophe after another.

 

He hadn't even noticed that he was zoning out until someone touched his arm and he jerked back to the scene before him. "Jeremy? Oh hey, there you are. You kinda spaced out on us for a minute," Alvarez said, hand rubbing up and down from shoulder to elbow like she was trying to rub life back into him. Jeremy looked around, slightly shocked that he'd spaced out so completely. Jean was studying him, eyes sharp, though he'd sunk in on himself again—body tense, he looked exactly like an animal poised to flee at any sign of threat.

 

Jeremy shook his head to clear it: _Jesus I need to get my shit together._ "Sorry! Such a busy day; I was just thinking about everything I needed to get done!" he laughed it off.

 

Alvarez looked appeased, although not entirely convinced. "Really? That's all? You're such a space case Jer!"

 

Jean looked significantly less convinced than Alvarez did, and squinted at Jeremy in consideration. _Probably wondering if this is going to affect my exy,_ Jeremy thought glumly. At least Jean's posture had relaxed slightly.

 

Sighing, Alvarez stood up from the table and stretched. "Ok if you've got such a busy day I don't want to hold you up, I'm off!"

 

"It was nice having you over for breakfast! Sorry about spacing, but yeah, I better start getting on top of stuff—there's a whole bunch of first years I need to get settled, and I'm going to have to pick, like, half the team up from the airport by the end of the day."

 

* * *

 

The day had been a blur for Jeremy, and he couldn't even begin to imagine how intense it would have been for Jean. Jean, clearly still rattled, decided to tag along for Jeremy's airport trips rather than staying at the dorm—although he had decided to let Jeremy deal with the first years on his own—so had been introduced to at least half the team. The harried introductions had been done as they passed people in the corridors and in the pickup bays at the airport.

 

For the most part, the introductions had basically all followed the same script. Jeremy would introduce the two players, even though most of the Trojans had been on the same court as Jean before. The Ravens weren't known for their social graces, and thus this was the first time most people had had a chance to speak to Jean. The Trojans would offer a warm greeting, which Jean would return politely but without a smile. They would shake hands, and the Trojan would usually turn to Jeremy, eyes wide to convey a _what's up with this guy?_ One or two of the braver souls had gone in for a hug instead of a handshake, but Jean had just blocked them by extending his hand anyway. Laila—who had been the first to try—looked crestfallen at the rejection.

 

Laila was just one more stress to Jeremy's day. He wasn't sure if Alvarez had told her that Jeremy knew about them, and so Jeremy, on the trip back to the dorms, had had to skirt around any topic that might lead them to Alvarez, boys, or soulmates, which had left him with surprisingly few things to talk about. Jean had surprised him when the car had lulled into a slightly awkward silence for the second time by actually starting a conversation with Laila—it had been entirely exy related, but still, it was far more effort than he'd made with anyone else at this point. Jeremy supposed if Jean was going to warm to anyone on the team, it would have to be sweet, soft Laila.

 

So, when evening had arrived, it found Jeremy exhausted and slightly overwhelmed by all the activity from the day. However, he was fighting off sleep so he could jot down dot points for his proper welcoming speech tomorrow. The first years had already got one, but this one was for the team as a whole, to welcome them back and let them know how the year was likely to go, remind them that they were changing things up this year, to try and improve their playing quality and so on.

 

He had also been putting off a talk he needed to have with Jean. He had been vaguely entertaining the thought for a while, but having seen the distance Jean purposely put between himself and his teammates, Jeremy decided it really did need to be brought up. It was, after all, his job to try and make transitions as easy as possible for everyone on his team, including Jean. He was not expecting this chat to go well, however, and so had left it until the last possible moment. But it was getting late, and he was getting tired, and if he didn't raise it now, he might not have time tomorrow.

 

"Jean," he started as he looked up from the paper in front of him, to where Jean was watching exy on the couch. Despite the day, he looked slightly restless, and Jeremy had to wonder if it was because they hadn't found time to train on the court today.

 

Jean looked up at his name. "Yes?"

 

"Can we have a quick chat?"

 

_This is already going badly_ , Jeremy thought as he saw Jean's posture tighten. However, Jean turned off the television and came to sit with Jeremy at the table.

 

"What have I done?" he asked.

 

Jeremy probably should have expected the question, but it had caught him off guard. "What? Oh, no, you haven't done anything."

 

"Then what is it?" Jean asked, looking confused.

 

Jeremy was deeply unsettled that Jean assumed the only reason he'd want to have a conversation with him was because he had done something to displease Jeremy. Or maybe Jean felt like he'd done something wrong today? The anti-hug handshake? Not greeting the first years? The frying pan? Jeremy ran through the events of the day and couldn't pinpoint Jean acting too panicked at any point, other than when Jeremy had freaked out this morning, but Jean hadn't done anything but sit there then. Nope, Jeremy was at a loss.

 

"Well," Jeremy started. "I realised today just how touchy-feely my teammates are, and that they can make you a bit uncomfortable." He paused, waiting for Jean to confirm or deny this but when he just continued to sit there, Jeremy continued. "And I know that I've made you uncomfortable by touching you in the past. So, I was thinking, and I don't want you to feel pressured about this, you don't even have to be there, and I don't even have to mention you, but I think it would be a good idea to chat with the team about respecting personal space?" Jeremy wished he sounded a bit surer about the whole thing, but he wasn't, and he didn't want Jean thinking he was forcibly being exposed or something.

 

He was not expecting Jean to be particularly happy about this suggestion, but he was also not expecting the strength of Jean's response. Jean's face scrunched in disgust and his tone was caustic as he all but snarled, "I'll be fine."

 

Despite his aggressive response, Jeremy felt the need to push on. "It's not whether you'll be fine or not. It's making this as easy on you as possible. Changing teams is hard enough without people constantly making you feel uncomfortable."

 

"Do you think I'm going to freak out on the court? That I can't play? I've played through so much worse than a few unwanted pats on the back, Jeremy. This isn’t even a problem as far as my scale is concerned."

 

"I know you can play, that's not in question. But you have freaked out during practice before, and I would prefer to save everyone involved from it happening again." Trying to appeal to Jean's more exy-driven side, Jeremy added, "If for no other reason than it would take time away from practice."

 

"It won't happen again," Jean ground out. Jeremy was surprised he was holding his ground so strongly, but also taken aback by Jean's apparent temper. Again, he found himself wondering what Jean was actually like under all the trauma, and if he was someone Jeremy was compatible with—the intricacies of soulmates were beyond him.

 

His pondering thoughts aside, Jeremy felt his grip on his temper slipping slightly—he was voicing valid concerns, he could understand Jean not wanting to deal with them, but completely dismissing them was a bit rich. "Oh, so it's just me then?" he shot back.

 

"OF COURSE IT'S YOU, ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?"

 

It was both the last thing Jeremy expected Jean to say, and what he'd been waiting to hear from Jean since the first day he'd arrived at USC _. It's all your fault, Jeremy. You're not good enough, Jeremy. It's because of you, Jeremy._

 

Jeremy physically flinched back, feeling Jean's words as if they were a physical blow. Emotions crashed over him in waves, as a chorus of self-hatred broke out in his brain. _He doesn't want you. You're making it worse. You are fucking stupid. It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault. It's yo-_

 

Jeremy shut down.

 

Every emotion, negative thought, happy thought, everything he could suppress and put in a little bottle and deal with in a private space—preferably the shower—later, he just stopped it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, a chapter? Within a month? Is this even reality?
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it! I know it ends on a bit of a cliff hanger so I actually finished the next chapter before posting this! I'm hoping to get it up next Friday but it does need some editing.
> 
> Yet another giant thanks to my bae and beta [Rachel Ren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars) this week we struggled with taking a page from someone's book and taking a leaf from someone's book, a truly riveting debate let me tell you. 
> 
> Come shout at me on tumblr: [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/)


	8. Let Us Not Fall into the Jaws of the Wolf Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy has a shower and Jean makes hot chocolate

"Oh, I see," Jeremy responded, voice weak. He took a step back, trying to distance himself from Jean. It seemed like the polite thing to do in this situation. He dropped his gaze—looking Jean in the eye was going to prove too much for his tenuous hold on his emotions. _OF COURSE IT'S YOU_.

 

Jean, either upon hearing the words come out of his mouth or seeing Jeremy's physical response to them, quickly recognised that he had said something wrong. The realisation seemed to drain the anger from him, and he slapped a hand over his mouth as if it could force the words back in. His eyes were round with… something. Shock? Concern? Fear? Jeremy couldn't find it within himself to puzzle the expression out.

 

"Jeremy, I-" Jean started.

 

"No, it's okay," Jeremy cut him off, still looking down. "I understand. It's okay." Shit, he'd already said that. "I can get out of here tonight. Give you some space? The girls will take me. Laila would probably come up if you needed company? Yeah, that will be fine. I- uh," Jeremy looked around, looked anywhere but Jean. _ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?_ He needed an out. He needed an out _now_. The bottle wasn't holding; he could feel emotions seeping out over the rim, squirming through impossible gaps between the lid and the glass. "I need a shower first, though." It came out forced, but it would be fine, he'd be safe in the shower, he'd pull himself together, screw the lid on more tightly and then go to the girl's room.

 

Jean's feet hadn't moved, he seemed frozen on the spot. Jeremy wanted to look at his face, to know his reassurances had worked, that Jean was feeling relieved to finally have an option that wasn't Jeremy. _FUCKING STUPID!_

 

 _You knew it all along; he doesn't want you. He would never want you, not as friends, not as lovers, not even as a captain. He thinks you're weak and pathetic, can you imagine how he'd laugh if he found out you were soulmates? How he would condemn you for being too weak to save him, to be this messed up just because you knew what he went through? If the roles were reversed, you would have been torn apart._ The thoughts broke through. He slammed the lid back on the bottle.

 

"Yeah, I'm just going to-" he gestured to the bathroom door, speaking too loudly to try to drown out the mocking voices in his head. Nodding to himself, he turned on his heal and all but fled to the safety of the bathroom. _FUCKING STUPID!_ He didn't even bother grabbing towels or a clean set of clothes to change into afterwards.

 

Closing the door behind him, he barely had the presence of mind to take his clothes off before turning the water on and climbing in.

 

The water wasn't warm when he climbed in, but Jeremy couldn't find it within himself to adjust it properly. He tried to stand there, to collect his thoughts, to even out his breathing. But he found himself sinking to his knees instead. He wanted to cry, he wanted to punch something until his knuckles bled, he wanted all of this to go away. But he couldn't do anything without freaking Jean out more, so he just sat there, slumped on his knees.

 

After a while, he began to ache where his knees pressed against the hard tiles, and his skin started taking on a bluish hue under the still cold water. Had he even turned the hot water on? He couldn't remember. _FUCKING STUPID._ Despite his discomfort, he continued to sit there—he couldn't move. If he moved everything was going to fall apart, and he couldn't do it.

 

Jeremy wasn't sure how long he sat like that, in an empty room with only his hateful thoughts for company. What had he done wrong? How had he fucked everything up so badly? He'd tried so hard. _Simple: Jean just saw through all my bullshit to the weak, useless_ boy _at the centre of it all. To someone who could never be enough for him, who couldn't support him, or protect him, who made everything worse for him, not better_.

 

His introspection was interrupted by a soft knock. Jeremy stared at the door blankly.

 

"Jeremy?" Jean called out tentatively when he didn't reply.

 

Jeremy realised he must have been in the shower for far too long, that he needed to get out. Jean was probably freaking out that he was having some sort of rage fit or whatever it was Jean was always expecting him to do. _STUPID. STUPID. STUPID_ echoed around Jeremy's head, his own admonishment - but it was Jean's angry voice.

 

"Sorry!" he called out. "Just a minute, getting out now." His voice didn't sound right, but he wasn't sure why.

 

Shit. No towel. _STUPID!_

 

Jeremy patted himself dry as best he could with his jersey, and exited the bathroom in just his jeans and a t-shirt. His hair was still dripping wet. Jean had been perched on the shoulder of the couch and stood up when Jeremy entered the room.

 

 _I must look pathetic_ he thought, conscious of his drowned rat appearance. He felt small, too - Jean had always been slightly taller, but Jeremy now felt like he towered over him. It made Jeremy pull his shoulders in and shrink down even further.

 

"Sorry about that, I'll just go grab some stuff. You want me to send Laila up?" Jeremy asked, turning to go to their bedroom.

 

"Jeremy, wait," Jean stopped him, his voice so much softer than before. If Jeremy had been more collected, he would have realised this was the first time Jean had said anything resembling an instruction that hadn't been followed with a question mark, or some sort of apology. At that moment, however, Jeremy was working on his most base operating system, and he recognised an instruction and followed it.

 

Jeremy stopped and turned around, halfway between Jean and the door. His gaze was focused on Jean's chest, not ready to see the relief on his face, or maybe the disgust. _ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?_ still echoed in his mind.

 

Jean took a step forward, and Jeremy took a step back. He needed to leave space between himself and Jean; he didn't want cause Jean undue stress, he didn't want him feeling pressured, Jean liked his personal space.

 

Jean took another step forward. "Jeremy," he called softly, reaching out a hand.

 

He seemed so intent on getting close to Jeremy that Jeremy found himself looking up in his confusion. He met Jean's eyes. They were calm but slightly tight at the edges, and Jean's mouth was pulled down—worried? Upset? What had Jeremy done now? Jeremy found himself frozen to the spot under that blue gaze.

 

Jean continued to move slowly towards Jeremy, hand reaching out. When he was close enough, and Jeremy hadn't moved, he very slowly put his open hand on Jeremy's upper arm, all the while maintaining eye contact. It evoked the motions Alvarez had made that morning as she was coaxing Jeremy out of his head.

 

When Jean's hand made contact, Jeremy looked down at it, then back up at Jean. Was Jean trying to comfort him? What was going on? _ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?_

 

"Jeremy," Jean said softly yet again, "I'm so sorry, but try and calm down, okay?"

 

Jeremy continued to stare. Jean rubbed his arm gently.

 

"Just take small breaths, in and out, in and out." Jeremy tried to follow Jean's instructions; he hadn't realised he had started to hyperventilate until Jean had pointed it out.

 

"Yeah, that's the way, just like that," Jean praised. Jeremy vaguely wondered if he'd somehow drowned in the shower and this was some weird version of the afterlife. Then he stopped wondering, because his breathing started to ratchet up again. _In and out, in and out._

 

Jean, seemingly reassured that Jeremy had yet to pull away, brought his other hand up and rested it where Jeremy's neck and shoulder joined. If Jeremy hadn't been so focused on getting air in and out of his lungs, he probably would have stopped breathing from shock. _Since when does Jean touch people?_

 

"That's the way," Jean was still coaxing. "I'm going to move you to the couch now, is that okay? No, no, just keep breathing, nod or shake." Jeremy nodded.

 

Jean slowly moved Jeremy over to the couch and had him sit down; all the while he had at least one hand on his shoulder. His hands were so warm—Jeremy had always expected them to be cold, with skin that refused to warm up despite the Californian sun, maybe because they were so pale.

 

Once Jeremy was sat and still breathing, Jean stood from his crouched position in from of Jeremy. "Stay there, I'm going to get you a towel." Jeremy's hair was still dripping.

 

When he came back, Jean held out the towel. Jeremy stared at it, not comprehending. Jean sighed. "Are you going to dry your hair? Or am I? You're dripping on the couch." Jeremy looked around and saw a wet spot had formed on the cushion behind him. He held out his hand for the towel, and when Jean gave it to him, scrubbed his head.

 

"Good," Jean praised. "Do you want something to drink? Water? Hot chocolate?" All this calm and gentle coaxing had slowed Jeremy's thoughts and calmed his breathing, and he had started to feel like his mind and body were both on the same page. He shook his head at the offer of a drink.

 

Jean sighed and sat down on the coffee table. It creaked slightly under him, but he didn't move. "Jeremy, I'm sorry," he said again as he looked Jeremy dead in the eyes.

 

"Why?" Jeremy asked, finally finding his voice. "You didn't say anything wrong. It's okay, I understand."

 

"No, no, you don't, and I didn't mean it, at least not the way you took it," Jean said, shaking his head.

 

"I'm not following," Jeremy replied apologetically. "I mean, if it's me, it's me, isn't it? And I am fucking stupid, and I'm so sorry for making you suffer through my clumsy attempts at all of this."

 

Jean ran his hand through his hair. "You really don't understand. When I said that, it came out wrong. I was upset and didn't think it through."

 

"But that doesn't mean it's not true." Jeremy didn't like the thought that if Jean had been calmer he just wouldn't have said it.

 

"Yes, but it's not what it sounds like!"

 

"Either I'm the problem or I'm not, Jean."

 

"You are the problem- no, wait, let me finish." Jeremy had started to get up from the couch but leant back again under Jean's rebuke. "You _are_ the problem, but it's not _you_. You have never done anything wrong, it's my messed-up head. And it's not just you; it's Coach too, but I'm never with him alone; and it would be Alvarez, but she's....."

 

 _Tiny? Not male? Not me?_ Jeremy guessed at what Jean would say.

 

"I don't know. She's not a threat," Jean finally supplied.

 

 _But I'm a threat?_ Jeremy let it sink in, feeling ill.

 

"And it's not even you, it's just the whole situation." Jean, clearly seeing that this was not making sense to Jeremy, sighed, realising he had to expand further. "It's all so messed up. I don't know if I can explain," Jean trailed off and thought.

 

"Have you ever had food poisoning?" he asked after a while.

 

Jeremy nodded, not sure where this was going.

 

"So this particular food, say it's a chicken sandwich, it makes you really ill, and you're miserable for days, yes? And then it passes, and you're fine, but you can't bring yourself to eat the food again? Like, you know it was just that one chicken sandwich and the rest should be safe because you've eaten like a million and only one has ever been bad, but you link the chicken sandwich with however bad you were feeling, and sometimes just looking at them will make you feel ill again?"

 

Jeremy slowly nodded, although he still wasn’t quite sure he's understood what Jean was getting at. "So I'm a chicken sandwich?" he asked stupidly.

 

"You're one of the _good_ chicken sandwiches that haven't caused anyone any problems," Jean clarified. "And Riko is one of the bad chicken sandwiches."

 

"But I don't understand—what do Riko and I have in common? We don't even look alike." The mere thought of being at all comparable to Riko made Jeremy feel dirty in a way no soap or shower would fix.

 

"You're both captains," Jean said like it was obvious. "I mean, you're a captain, and Riko was a captain," he corrected. "And I know it makes no sense, but in my head, you're above me and have power over me and the only reason you're nice to me is because I just haven't fucked up enough for you to give up on me yet, but I know it's going to happen eventually. Or you're just lulling me into a false sense of security before you spring some trap I'm never going to be able to escape from. "

 

Jeremy shut his eyes. Everything hurt. His chest physically ached.

 

"And Jeremy, I know, I _know_ , you're not Riko, you remind me every day. You remind me with hot chocolate, and personal space; you remind me when there are no new bruises on my body, you even remind me when you’re freaking out like this. Everything about you is the opposite of Riko, and everything about Coach is different to the ma- Coach Tetsuji. But my head’s a fucking mess and half the time it can't figure these things out."

 

"How can you stand to be in a room with me?" Jeremy asked flatly. Half of him was relieved to hear that Jean knew he wasn't a monster like Riko, but still, hearing how hard it was for Jean to remember that… it hurt.

 

"Because when my head isn't creating monsters that aren't there, I know you're good for me. You're patient and more than understanding, you give me space, and you keep me company. I don't know anyone that would be this good to a near-stranger, teammate or not."

 

Jeremy felt guilty. Sure, he probably would do this for anyone else, but Jean had never just been a stranger or a teammate. Jean was Jeremy's soulmate—even if Jean challenged all Jeremy's preconceived ideas about what soulmates were—and that meant Jeremy would go above and beyond what was humanly possible if it made Jean's life even fractionally better. Jeremy felt like he was receiving praise under false pretences, but now more than ever he felt the need to hide the truth. If Jean struggled with Jeremy being in a position of power over him when Jeremy was just his captain, he couldn't imagine how Jean would cope knowing Jeremy was also his soulmate. Jeremy didn't want to scare Jean away, and he didn't want to accidentally force Jean into something he wasn't comfortable with just because he felt like it was his role, or he couldn't say no either.

 

Jeremy smiled weakly. "I try. I don't think it's enough."

 

Jean shook his head. "It's more than I ever expected of anyone."

 

Jeremy really didn't know what to say. He glanced at the clock. "Hey, it's only eight. Daisy Town is open until nine. I didn't have a chance to duck over there earlier, so do you want to go now? I could definitely use some hot chocolate, but mine just isn't as appealing knowing there's fancy French stuff that's totally an improvement out there waiting for me." He was tired and kind of wanted to just go to bed, despite the early hour, but he was pretty sure he was too traumatised to sleep right now, and just sitting quietly with Jean doing nothing was probably going to wind him up even further.

 

Jean spent a long moment to continue staring at Jeremy, maybe to make sure his message had actually been understood, or maybe he was assessing if Jeremy was going to be safe behind the wheel. "Sure, if you're happy to. Let me grab my shoes."

 

Jeremy looked down at himself. "I should probably change into something that's properly dry."

 

* * *

 

The drive to Daisy Town was quiet, but more relaxed than Jeremy was used to. For once he didn't feel the need to try and fill the space with noise. He was still feeling fragile and off-kilter—it showed in his clothes: he'd donned his largest hoodie, despite the warmth of the night, and loose sweatpants, hiding in the extra folds of fabric—but nevertheless he found the companionable silence comforting.

 

Daisy Town was almost deserted by the time they got there, and most of the shops showed signs of closing up for the night. They beelined for the international grocer, and after leading them to the aisle that housed its various hot chocolate mixes, Jeremy turned to Jean.

 

"So, what are we looking for?"

 

Jean scanned the aisle and stopped on a package that read _Jean-Paul Hévin,_ and underneath it in larger writing, _Chocolat Chaud_.

 

"This is it," Jean said, a small smile ghosting his face. 

 

Jeremy was happy to see Jean find something he wanted, but still, it was very hard not to baulk at the price. $40? For hot chocolate powder? Imported or not, it seemed exorbitant to Jeremy, but there was no way he was going to tell Jean that.

 

"Excellent! Let's get out of here, then." There was still something slightly forced about his upbeat tone. He hoped Jean didn't notice.

 

Although Jeremy had offered to pay, or even split the cost, Jean had bought the hot chocolate himself and cradled it almost reverentially in his lap on the drive home.

 

Jeremy idly wondered what memory Jean had of the stuff that would inspire such fondness. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, though, if Jean linked it to some memory of an abuser that might have spared him a few kind words or sweet drink when things were going well, Jeremy imagined the knowledge would sour the taste.

 

When they got home, Jean bustled off to the kitchen with more energy then Jeremy had seen off the court. He pulled out a saucepan, added chocolate powder and milk, and then went about carefully stirring it as it warmed up. When he was satisfied, he poured the mixture into two mugs, again stirring them gently, then brought them both out to join Jeremy on the couch.

 

Jean looked at his own cup for a moment, then took a cautious sip. After a moment he sighed in contentment. "This is the best hot chocolate known to man," he said as he melted into the couch. Jeremy had never seen him so relaxed.

 

Jeremy carefully blew on his own mug, not wanting to scald himself with hot milk, and after a short time took a small sip of his own. He groaned in pleasure. "You're right, my hot chocolate is shit compared to this."

 

Jean laughed. "You Americans just don't know how to do food." He then looked at Jeremy, slightly concerned, yet again, that he had stepped over a line Jeremy had no awareness of.

 

"You're right," he agreed. "If all French food is like this, I'm lucky I don't live there, because I would be fat no matter how much exy I played!"

 

Jean snorted. "A little extra weight would be alright. The backliners would have more trouble knocking you over."

 

Jeremy waved a hand dismissively. "Too much extra weight to carry, this way I can just run around them."

 

When Jeremy reached the bottom of his cup, he stood up. "Okay, I've had a warm drink, and I'm utterly exhausted. Time for me to get some sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update in a week! Let me assure you this will never happen again :')
> 
> Hopefully, this gave you all some closure to last week's cliffhanger, I swear all the comments were in caps, I'm sorry for putting you through such torment :') but your comments and kudos give me life so keep 'em coming <3
> 
> Go give some love to my beta [Rachel Ren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars)
> 
> Come shout at me on [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/)


	9. Bitter Is Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy and Jean learns some gossip

Alvarez slumped on the opposite side of the couch from Jeremy, pulling her feet up underneath her and letting out a sigh that Jeremy felt in his bones. She looked miserable - even worse than when Jeremy had picked her up from the airport - curled in on herself in a way Jeremy had never seen her do before, the rings under her eyes even darker. She looked slightly puffy and pink in the wrong spots, as if she had been crying. Jeremy wanted to bundle her up in a blanket and bury her in a pile of puppies.

 

Jeremy felt guilty that he hadn't invited her over sooner, but he hadn't wanted to make it obvious how much Jean was reliant on his company, and kicking Jean out was unthinkable, so he'd waited until Jean's next therapy session to send her a text suggesting they hang.

 

The first full team meeting had made it abundantly clear how bad things really were between Alvarez and Laila. The two—usually inseparable—were sat on opposite ends of the room instead of together at the back, quietly mocking Jeremy's pep-talk in real time. Alvarez kept sneaking miserable glances in Laila's direction, while the other girl stared resolutely ahead. The gaping space between the two made Jeremy's words catch in his throat, and his he could feel his breakfast curdling in his stomach.

 

If it hadn't been for his best friends tearing themselves apart in front of him, Jeremy would have thought the speech had gone quite well. His plan to match bench numbers caused a bit of an outcry amongst the first years who hadn't heard about it already last year. In fact, it still ruffled a few of the older students’ feathers too, but no one directly told him he was an idiot or was going to cost them their trophy at the end of the year, so it was better than he expected. Plus, no one had even snuck a look at Jean when he'd given his little lecture about respecting personal space, and even better, Jean was still talking to him by the end of it. But he just couldn't shake the shock at how quickly the strongest friendship he'd ever seen had completely fallen apart. They drew quite a few looks from their other teammates as well, but as far as Jeremy was aware, no one had been brave enough to broach the subject with either of them.

 

Laila and Alvarez had been thick as thieves since the first week of their first year. Roommates with a penchant for mischief and always looking for a laugh, they'd bonded through an incident that somehow involved their first captain, a whoopie cushion and a suitcase, and Jeremy for the life of him had never worked out the full story. What details he did glean changed each time he heard them. Whatever had happened, it seemed to have forged a friendship that had lasted four years of early morning practices, long bus rides, wins, losses and the presence of several short-term relationships.

 

Jeremy made the third member of the trio, but even he would admit Alvarez and Laila's relationship had always been deeper than the ones he had formed with either of the girls. Jeremy was surprised none of them had realised sooner; he had always thought that you would look into your soulmate's eyes, or have a conversation or a moment and just know instantly. But he thought about his relationship with Jean and the vast distance between the girls as they sat through his speech that morning, and was once again struck that soulmates were nowhere near as simple as he'd been led to believe.

 

He wondered if it would have been easier for Laila and Alvarez if they _had_ realised earlier, and thought again if and how he should tell Jean, but sighed and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He needed to focus on the here and now, he couldn't help anyone if he was hung up on what-ifs. Still, the whole thing left him feeling hollow, and there was a persistent voice in the back of his head wondering what hope there was for him and Jean if a pair like Laila and Alvarez, who had such a strong friendship, couldn't work this out.

 

"Half the time," Alvarez started, breaking Jeremy out of his introspection, "she acts like I don't exist, and the other half she pretends everything's the same as it always was. And at this point, I don't even know which is worse."

 

She looked close to tears again, and Jeremy couldn’t think of anything helpful or even remotely positive to say, so he just leaned across and took one of her hands in his.

 

"You know what’s even worse?" Alvarez asked, finally meeting Jeremy's gaze. "I don't even know what _I_ want anymore."

 

Jeremy felt his brow scrunch. "I don't understand."

 

Alvarez sighed. "Okay, no judging, but before I found all this out, I might have had a bit of a crush on Laila already."

 

Jeremy's heart clenched as Alvarez sighed again and corrects, "Well, a pretty big crush actually, and like, I knew nothing would come from it? She's straight, and I'm a woman, and just, yeah, you know how it is."

 

Jeremy nodded, even though he hadn't found himself in that predicament. Or maybe he had, but he'd never had the inclination to act on any of his crushes, so it hadn't really mattered anyway.

 

"So anyway, then we figured it out, and like, it was the last day, just before we went on break and we just didn't have time. Well, we might have, but Laila did a good job avoiding it, and I just didn't realise. Like, I knew she was in shock, but I didn't realise it was that bad." Alvarez trailed off, fiddling with a bit of stuffing that was coming out of the torn corner of Jeremy's couch cushion. Jeremy gave her hand another gentle squeeze, and she looked up again.

 

"So yeah, we didn't talk, but I was so excited, like, this amazing girl was my soulmate? And it just didn't cross my mind that maybe we weren't _romantic_ soulmates. So, when I called after getting back home, I just made everything worse, and she completely freaked out on me. Went on a whole rant about how she wasn't gay. And of course, I didn't react well to that, and you know how I get when I lose my temper. And a few days later I tried to apologise, but it's been basically like this ever since..." Alvarez trailed off again with a sniff.

 

Jeremy wasn't sure if it was appropriate to ask anything after that, but he wanted to help, and at the moment, he didn't have enough information to know how. "So, sorry if I'm being dense, but how exactly does this relate to what you want?"

 

"Oh, right," Alvarez laughed, although it sounded a bit wet. "Well, at the beginning I wanted to date her - like I said, it just didn't occur to me that there was any other option. Then, when I called to apologise, I just wanted us to go back to being friends, like, not talking for days had just killed me and I really didn't care what happened as long as we could get that back. But now, well, it's just been so awful... no, _she's_ just been so awful-" Alvarez cut herself off to take a deep, ragged breath. Jeremy suspected she'd been trying to avoid putting the blame on Laila and just couldn't anymore, and it looked like just admitting that took something from her.

 

"She's just been so awful," she said again, in a quieter voice. "I don't know if I want anything. If you can just hurl someone away like this after so many years, just because you're scared? Or what? _Homophobic_? After knowing us for years? Is that even possible?"

 

She looked over to Jeremy, expecting him to answer. He shook his head slowly. "I don't know… I guess it's one thing to be accepting of others? But then when it comes to yourself, it can be a whole bunch of other internalised things? Or external things? Maybe her family aren't accepting?"

 

Alvarez didn't look particularly satisfied with his answer, so he went on, "Look, I agree, Laila's been shit, even if you made mistakes as well. I can't believe she's reacted this way and I'm so, so sorry she's putting you through this. But I wouldn't write her off completely. She's shocked, and probably dealing with her own stuff right now. And I know this is easy to say because I'm not you, but if it were me, I'd let her sort through some of her crap and come to talk to you, and then see where you want to go from there."

 

Alvarez shuffled where she was sitting so she could rest her head on her knees, and when Jeremy finished talking, she nodded against them. "Yeah," she said with another sniff. "Yeah, okay. That sounds good. Yeah."

 

Jeremy didn't have anything to add after that, and Alvarez was still holding his hand and made no sign of moving as the silence stretched, so he settled himself back, content to sit with her. Eventually, though, he felt the need to start building her back up into a functional human, and broke the silence by softly asking, "So have you ever tried French hot chocolate before?"

 

Alvarez didn't lift her head, but mumbled into her legs, "No, but is there really any difference other than price? And the pretentiousness of whoever bought it?"

 

"Did you just call me pretentious?" Jeremy asked, mock indignant.

 

"Maybe." Alvarez still didn't raise her head, but she sounded slightly amused anyway.

 

"I'm just going to have to educate you on how wrong you are, then!" he exclaimed, gently pulling his hand from Alvarez's and moving into the kitchen.

 

Jeremy was fairly sure Alvarez used the time he was in the kitchen to pull herself together, because she was sitting up and facing him when he came back with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Her face was slightly pinker and puffier, but other than that she was looking alright - not great, but in some ways not as tired as when she had originally come in.

 

Jeremy handed her a hot chocolate as he sat back down, and drew her into a light but a meaningless conversation that completely avoided all mention of Exy and soulmates.

* * *

Jeremy hadn't realised how long they had been sitting there until Jean came in, looking pale and worn out from therapy. He never talked about what when on in the sessions, but he often looked exhausted and shaken when he came out. Jeremy, until this point, hadn't realised how intense therapy could be, and even now it still made him wonder.

 

Walking in, Jean froze and took a moment to cautiously survey the room, eyes lingering on the still gently steaming cups of chocolate that both Jeremy and Alvarez held. Jeremy felt a twinge of guilt mixed with worry - was the hot chocolate something he should have kept between him and Jean? Was Jean mad that Jeremy had used something of his? If he was, would Jean even voice his annoyance? Jeremy had meant to gently send Alvarez on her way before Jean got back, and he felt completely sprung on all accounts.

 

"Hi! You're back. Sorry about the hot chocolate, I hope you don't mind?"

 

Jean just shook his head, closed the door and dropped his bag. Jeremy felt his heart drop. He had totally fucked up.

 

But instead of retreating to the bedroom as Jeremy expected, Jean moved to the kitchen and started rustling around. It took Jeremy a few nerve-wracked seconds to realise Jean was making another hot chocolate, at which point Jeremy stopped trying to figure out what was going on because, _what_? But he allowed a small flicker of hope to creep back, that maybe Jean wasn't mad after all.

 

After a few more minutes, where Jeremy and Alvarez both sat on the couch seemingly unsure of what to do or how to break the silence, Jean collapsed in the free armchair with his own cup of hot chocolate. He slumped with a grace Jeremy would never possess in an exhausted, boneless, heap and gave a sigh to rival the one Alvarez had loosed when she first sat down. He looked at Alvarez and Jeremy, for once seeming unselfconscious under their gazes and quietly uttered, "It's a hot chocolate kind of day, isn't it?"

 

"You can say that again," Alvarez chuckled weakly, letting her head fall back against the couch.

 

It was the first time Jeremy had seen them interact without an undercurrent of hostile tension, and even with the horror that was the implosion of Alvarez and Laila he felt something in his chest loosen slightly.

* * *

Alvarez left after finishing her hot chocolate. Jeremy was relieved that she was looking somewhat sturdier than when she'd come in. Jeremy and Jean remained in their seats in a silence that was more companionable than it usually was.

 

After a while, Jean leaned over and grabbed the remote to turn on a pre-season exy game, but he turned the volume down to just background noise, allowing for conversation if either of them wanted it. For the first time since Jean arrived, watching exy with him felt like a joint activity, rather than a distraction or at times a remarkably loud barrier between the two of them.

 

They didn't speak much for the first half. Occasionally Jean would scoff at a particularly weak manoeuvre and Jeremy would compare plays to similar ones he'd seen the Trojan's do.

 

At half time, Jean turned in his chair to face Jeremy, draping a leg over one of the legs in the process. Sat like that, relaxed and sprawled, head propped up on one of his fists staring at Jeremy in contemplation he looked like a king. Jeremy certainly felt the need to prostrate himself before him, at least. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, but it was more of a gulp.

 

So caught up was he with Jean's regal beauty at that moment that he entirely missed what Jean had asked him.

 

Jeremy shook his head slightly. "Sorry, what was that?"

 

Jean frowned at him in confusion. "I said: So, Alvarez and Laila, is there a story there?"

 

"How did you know-" Jeremy started and suddenly cut himself off. Then he sighed, realising he's given the answer away and mentally kicked himself, although the _stupid_ that rattled around his head still came out in Jean's outraged voice. "Shit, okay, I'm really not meant to tell anyone, Laila doesn't even know that _I_ know."

 

"Oh, well, I mean, you don't have to tell me. But yeah, I know something’s up, I don't know them well, but they seemed a lot closer last year. At least, it looked that way..." Jean bumbled through, earlier confidence rapidly lost. Jeremy wasn't quite sure how Jean managed to curl in on himself while still lounged on the armchair, but he had, and Jeremy didn't like it at all.

 

Jeremy looked at Jean as he considered his choices. Jean, in this silence, looked anywhere but at Jeremy, and although he hadn't moved, kept his shoulders hunched and head down, once again expecting some sort of violent rebuke. Eventually, Jeremy sighed, "I try not to gossip, especially about team mates, but Al is probably going to be in and out of here a lot and I feel wrong for leaving you completely out of the loop. But, you promise not to tell anyone that you know?" Jeremy paused until Jean looked up and nodded his assent. "Okay, so just before summer break, Laila and Alvarez found out they were soulmates."

 

"Oh," is all Jean said, a frown creasing his forehead.

 

Jeremy waited for more of a response, and when he realised one wasn't coming, he went fishing for one. "Oh? That's all you got? No questions? Confusion?"

 

Jean's mouth twisted in thought before he replied. "I understand soulmates can be," he paused, looking for the right word. "Complicated."

 

"Am I the only one that was naive enough to think soulmates were just pure happy things?" Jeremy asked, frustrated at his idiocy.

 

Jean shook his head before letting it drop onto the back of the armchair. He was once again lounging, but he looked less regal than before - overall he looked wearier, and he wasn't looking at Jeremy anymore, but the ceiling instead. "I think it's like that for most people; it's just the unlucky few who've learnt that it's not all happiness and salvation."

 

But Jeremy _did_ know that soulmates weren't all flowers and sunshine, had known since he'd learnt why his marks were unusual, were _wrong_. He felt all the more a fool for being naive enough to think that his—that anyone's—misery would be resolved by merely meeting their soulmate one day. But he couldn't tell Jean that, so he grunted in acknowledgement.

 

"I guess it is a bit of a surprise though," Jean continued. "Laila and Alvarez always seemed so close; I would have assumed they would be happy to have each other."

 

"Laila's straight," Jeremy provided as an explanation.

 

"Oh, I see. Well, yes, sexuality can be an unpleasant business," Jean says expression growing dark. Jeremy was afraid to ask what he meant. At least, he would reflect later; Jean didn't seem like a homophobe since he hadn't jumped to the conclusion that Laila and Alvarez's problems were because of their gender.

 

"Apparently so," he agreed to fill in the silence.

 

Jean looked back at the television. "Oh, half time is over," he said, turning the volume back up.

 

Apparently, the conversation was over. It had been so swift that Jeremy hadn’t even really had time to properly consider if this was when he should tell Jean about the two of them or not. When he realised it may have been a good opportunity and he’d missed it, he felt a pang of guilt, a pang that intensified as he also registered his own relief at—through his own thoughtlessness—having avoided the topic for the time being.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok in my defence of how slow this chapter was in the making, I had awful writer's block, and an organ removed *casual shrug that isn't really casual at all* (also don't worry it was just my gallbladder, I'm doing totally fine without it). Anyway, this is probably the first time ever I've hated writing a chapter but I just had to push through it, even now I'm defs not a fan but hey what can you do?
> 
> Massive thanks to my beta [Rachel Ren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars) for all the support through the writers block. 
> 
> And massive thanks to all those who left comments or kudos! It really does keep me going! You all rock <3 
> 
> Come shout at me on [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/)


	10. Rise on Burning Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy eavesdrops and Jean has a plan

Jeremy's head was throbbing. He rubbed his temple, trying to ease some of the pain—it did nothing. He supposed he could have been coming down with something, but he was pretty sure it was just stress. As far as pre-season went, this was the worst one he'd seen during his time at USC.

 

It wasn't just one thing - or, he thought, looking over at Jean, one person - it was an entire clusterfuck of... _everything_.

 

It was the first-years who still had their arrogant high school attitudes, lording it over everyone like they were God's gift to exy—best at their schools, yes, but he doubted he'd say any were ever best on his court.

 

It was the seniors who just didn't seem to give a fuck about anything now the end was nearly in sight. Or maybe they only cared about putting in the effort if there was a talent scout present? Jeremy wondered, knowing he was being unkind, but not finding it within him to feel ashamed.

 

It was Laila and Alvarez and the tension between them throwing everyone—even the first years—into a tailspin around them.

 

It was Jean.

 

It was Jean attacking everyone who wasn't as good as him—that is to say, everyone. It was Jean flying off into unpredictable rages in the locker room after practice. It was Jean waking up every night this week _screaming_.

 

In the end, though, what it came down to was Jeremy's own failings.

 

It was Jeremy's inability to bond the team, to smooth the edges between old members and new.

 

It was Jeremy's inability to bridge the ever-increasing gap between his two best friends.

 

It was Jeremy's inability to help Jean in any way at all.

 

It was Jeremy's inability to be a good captain, friend, or soulmate.

 

In the background to Jeremy's self-deprecating thoughts, Jean and Avery were arguing. _Again_. Jeremy sighed, applying more pressure to his temples, in a vain attempt to distract himself from the two angry men or his own angry thoughts. When that didn't work, he let out another puff of air and made his way to the showers. He would deal with Avery and Jean if they were still going at it after his shower, but he hoped they would run out of steam before then so he could pretend he hadn't noticed the fight. Some captain he was. 

 

* * *

 

Thankfully, the change room was pretty much empty when Jeremy got out of his shower—already fully dressed. He felt a ball of concern form in his stomach when he realised Jean was no longer there. It was stupid to worry, because Jean would often wait for Jeremy in the team room, but Jeremy had had so many nightmares about him just disappearing that he could never convince his heart rate that everything was fine.

 

As he walked to his locker, just across from the change room exit, he heard Jean's voice float through the door, and the ball inside him eased, even as his stress picked up. It looked like he'd have to bring Jean down from another rant after all. However, as he approached the door, after putting his exy gear away, Jeremy realised that it was Jean and Laila talking.

 

Surprised, he paused before exiting and overheard some of the conversation. "-ow he can be an ass, but you could go a bit easier on him, he's a good player," Laila was saying.

 

Jean scoffed. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't put the work in and he doesn't listen to instructions, talent is useless if you can't do the basics."

 

"He just doesn't know you yet, he'll come around eventually."

 

_Since when do Laila and Jean talk so casually? When did this happen?_ Jeremy questioned. He had never seen Laila and Jean interact off the court, although they both played defense roles, so maybe they had bonded that way. Still, Jeremy wondered how often they chatted in the team room while Jean waited for him. He felt a small smile play across his face - this was good.

 

"He's seen me play, he knows I could run circles around him on the court, he should realise that my pointers are aimed to actually _help_. I'm not trying to be an asshole, although you'd think it, the way he acts."

 

Jeremy was usually against listening to his teammates without their knowledge, but he was able to justify it to himself this time because it gave him insight into how the team was working that he just wasn't getting elsewhere. He knew that most of the arguments between Jean and the rest of the team—particularly Avery, who butted heads with Jean the most—seemed to arise from Jean's harsh criticism. It had not occurred to Jeremy, however, that this was Jean actively trying to help, instead of just his Raven training bleeding through. He felt a pang of guilt at having sold Jean short.

 

"He'll come around," Laila insisted. "In all honesty, I think it's less actually having an issue with you, and more that he's a bit put out that Jeremy chose you as a roommate this year instead of him. Which is no excuse, but I mean, it might help you, I don't know, understand him?"

 

"Wait, _Avery_ is Jeremy's old roommate?" Jean asked in a tone coloured with a surprising amount of hostility. Jeremy hadn't realised there would be such competitive feelings between old and new roommates. He made a mental note to go smooth Avery's feathers when he had a chance.

 

"Yeah," Laila answered Jean's question, sounding as surprised as Jeremy at Jean's tone. "Why?"

 

Realising that this was moving from eavesdropping for team-building purposes to just plain eavesdropping, Jeremy decided now was an appropriate time to exit the change room. When the door opened, Laila and Jean both jumped, jerking their heads in his direction as if they'd been caught doing something untoward. Jean relaxed somewhat when he saw it was only Jeremy. Laila did not.

 

Jeremy was well aware that Laila had been avoiding him - whether this was because she had discovered he knew about her and Alvarez, or whether it was because she didn't want him prodding her in an attempt to find out what was going on, he wasn't sure. Either way, she had been ducking out of rooms as soon as it looked like Jeremy might have a chance to talk to her. Now, perhaps unfortunately for her, she was alone with Jeremy and his roommate at the end of practice with no polite way to excuse herself from the conversation.

 

Jeremy, pretending to be oblivious to the tension, something he'd had a lot of practice with lately, blithely carried on. "All done!" He exclaimed cheerily, ruffling his still damp hair with his hand. "You guys ready to head off?"

 

Jean nodded. Laila hesitated.

 

Jeremy was prepared to wait and let her make some excuse to avoid walking back with them, but Jean seemed to have other plans. He started walking for the exit, and when neither Jeremy or Laila moved, he turned around, flicking his gaze between the two of them—although Jeremy noticed it rested more at his chest height than his eyes—and asked: "You guys coming or what?" Which seemed direct enough that Laila felt she couldn't back out politely—or maybe it was just because it wasn't Jeremy suggesting it. Either way, she nodded and started to follow Jean out the door. Jeremy jogged to catch up.

 

They walked in silence for a bit, Laila on Jean's left, head ducked and studiously avoiding eye contact, while Jeremy pretended he didn't notice on Jean's right. Jean, for his part, seemed oddly content to sit in the middle of the tension he'd brought about. Jean was far more relaxed around Laila than Jeremy had seen him with anyone else on the team. Jeremy had noticed it briefly when they had picked up Laila from the airport, and it was even more apparent now. He couldn't fathom the reason and found himself trying to push down a bubble of jealousy, thick and cloying, that had formed in his chest.

 

In an attempt to distract himself, and slightly desperate to break the silence, he turned to the pair on his left. "So, I see our brave defenders have been bonding! When did this happen, you two?" Internally he winced, he sounded like some sort of doting dad asking his child awkward questions in front of their crush.

 

"She's a good goalie," Jean said, as if that were some kind of explanation. It was the first caveat-free compliment Jeremy had heard him give to anyone on the team. The sticky bubbly expanded, gumming together more of his insides.

 

"Oh, so that's why you talk to me? Cos I can stop the ball good?" Laila mocked. Jeremy internally braced himself for Jean to explode, or collapse. Neither happened. Jean just snorted. Jeremy stared in shock.

 

Laila seemed to take his expression for confusion and gave a fuller explanation. "I've been taking slightly longer showers," _I've been avoiding heading back to the dorm with Alvarez,_ Jeremy read between the lines. "And I kept seeing Jean loitering. I've kept him company a few times now, I'm surprised it's taken me this long to run into you!" _I've been trying to leave before you come out._

 

"Well, don't be a stranger! We're happy to have more company on our way home, aren't we, Jean?" _I'm not mad, you don't have to avoid me._

 

Jean nodded amiably. Then patted his pocket. Then his other one. Then both at the same time. "I think I left my phone back in my locker," he said with a frown. "I better go back and get it, can you wait for me here?" Before anyone had a chance to say anything, he'd already jogged off back towards the court.

 

Jeremy was confused. He knew Jean left his phone in the dorm for training, and had a clear memory of Jean putting it on the table before getting up to head to practice this morning. Adding to his bafflement, Jean had volunteered to go do an errand—a made up errand at that—on his _own_. Maybe that was it? Jean was trying to make a point of independence? Jeremy shook his head—no, that didn't make sense, he could have just said he'd head back to the dorm on his own.

 

Laila shuffled awkwardly next to him.

 

Jeremy looked over at her. Was Jean giving them time alone? "So, how are you holding up?"

 

Laila looked up at him. "Alvarez told you, didn't she?" she asked, voice smaller that Jeremy was expecting.

 

Jeremy could have lied; maybe it would have been better to feign ignorance; he didn't want to get Al in even hotter water. But it would be easier with it all out in the open. "Yeah, she did. Bit of a surprise, hey?"

 

Laila nodded and looked back at her feet. "You don't... hate me?" she asked, voice becoming smaller still.

 

Jeremy looked at Laila in surprise; of course he didn't hate her. He was shocked at how things had gone between her and Alvarez, and he certainly didn't think Laila had handled any of it well, but that didn't mean she deserved hatred. "Hey, it's not my place to judge. There are two sides to every story. I've only heard one, and even then, I've only heard part of it," he tried to console. "That doesn't mean I approve of how things have gone, but I know you, and I'm sure you have your reasons."

 

Laila nodded and sniffed slightly. Jeremy pulled her into a hug.

 

"I just don't know what to do. I don't know what to _think_." Her voice was muffled by his chest.

 

"You two will figure it out," he reassured. Laila didn’t say anything, but nodded against his chest.

 

They stayed there until Jeremy saw Jean off in the distance and pulled back. "But hey, talk to me sometime, okay? I'm not playing sides here, you're both my friends, and I want to help."

 

Laila nodded again. 

 

* * *

 

The rest of the walk home was more relaxed, and Jeremy and Jean left Laila, who looked much rejuvenated after some light conversation, on her floor before heading back to their own rooms.

 

Jean was already walking to the bedroom by the time Jeremy got the door locked, presumably to put his gym bag away. He froze though when Jeremy said, "I thought you said you found your phone in your locker?" Jeremy watched the line of Jean's shoulders harden.

 

Jean turned around and, keeping his eyes trained on the floor, replied, "Oh, no, I couldn't find it and then realised it was probably here."

 

"Yeah," Jeremy agreed. "I was surprised, considering you haven't taken it to practice once since you got here." Jean continued to stare at Jeremy's feet.

 

"Did you really think you'd taken it today?" Jeremy pushed.

 

Jean's hand was trembling as he ran it through his hair, but he actually looked Jeremy in the eyes when he responded. "No, I didn't."

 

Jeremy was pushing, he knew it. But he wanted to show Jean that there wouldn't be bad consequences, even when he did step out of line. "So, you lied?"

 

Jean had put his hands in his pockets after he'd pushed his hair back, but the attempt was in vain. The shaking had spread to his limbs, and if you squinted, it almost appeared as if he was vibrating gently.  "Yes, I lied."

 

Jeremy's stomach was in knots, _stupid, stupid, why are you doing this._ But he pushed on. "Did you do it so that I had a chance to talk to Laila?"

 

Jean nodded. He was pale and shaking and looked entirely beyond words.

 

"Thank you," Jeremy said sincerely.

 

Jean stared at him with an expression that fell somewhere between terror and consternation.

 

"I mean it," Jeremy tried to reassure, feeling like it was too little, too late. _What was I thinking? How stupid can I be? How much trust has this lost me?_ he thought glumly, while a smaller part of his brain whispered, _he needs to see this_. "This is the first time she's talked to me properly since getting she got back. It's a relief. Thank you."

 

Jean took a breath as if about to say something, then suddenly exhaled and collapsed into the couch next to him, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He took a couple more breaths.

 

Jeremy, although he was still near the dining table, took a step back to give him more space.

 

Eventually, Jean raised his head and looked at the ceiling, "I don't understand."

 

"You don't understand what?" Jeremy asked. _Me being a total douche even though I was actually thanking you? Cos yeah, that's fair, I don't understand it either._

 

"This! You? Everything." Jean sounded distraught, although Jeremy had trouble reading his face from the angle it was at.

 

"I'm sorry," Jeremy said. He was, he didn't want to upset or scare Jean.

 

"Why? Why. Why. Why." Jean was getting angry, which Jeremy thought was reasonable given the circumstances.

 

"Why, what?" Jeremy tried to clarify.

 

"Why are you sorry?"

 

"I'm sorry for stressing you?" Jeremy wasn't really following this anymore.

 

"How is that your fault? I lied and manipulated you and Laila so you'd be forced to talk, how is me freaking out when you call me out on it your fault?"

 

"Well, I could have just thanked you. It was pretty obvious from my end what you'd done."

 

"You're well within your right to point out that my behaviour wasn't above reproach, Jeremy."

 

"Oh, sorry."

 

Jean gave Jeremy a withering look.

 

Jeremy smiled sheepishly, still quite lost. At least Jean didn't look on the verge of a panic attack anymore.

 

Jean continued to stare but then shook his head. "Never mind." Then, seeming to remember where he was and who he was talking to, he flinched. Jeremy suppressed a sigh. Two steps forward, one step back.

 

As Jeremy moved to sit down in the armchair, Jean looked over at him again more timidly. "So, you're not mad?"

 

"Nope, I'm appreciative," Jeremy assured with a smile.

 

A hint of a smile flickered over Jean's face but was gone before it had a chance to properly take hold. "I'm not in trouble for lying?"

 

Jeremy laughed, although the question hurt. "No. I mean, usually I wouldn't approve, but no, you're not in trouble."

 

Jean nodded solemnly. Then he stood up and walked into the bedroom. Jeremy imagined that would be the last of the matter, and Jean would retreat into his own space for a while, but he was back a few moments later, in a different shirt and sans gym bag. He sat back on the couch, pulling his knees up so he could rest his chin on them. "So, how did the chat go?"

 

Jeremy smiled and relaxed into the couch. "Well, we didn't have much time, but we're back on talking terms, I'm pretty sure." He knew he shouldn't, but he gave Jean a rundown of the conversation—he desperately needed someone he could talk to, he felt Alvarez and Laila's absence keenly. His chest was warm at the thought that Jean actually cared what happened to the two of them as well, although he suspected Jean would say it was motivated by the need for team cohesion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block seems to have cleared up quite nicely! Yaaaay! Thanks to everyone who left such kind comments on my last chapter, I nearly cried! I love you all <3 And my lack of gallbladder is coming along quite nicely :) Thanks to all those who left kudos as well <3
> 
> Please shower my beta [Rachel Ren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars) with love, she now has a super aesthetic [tumblr](https://glitter-ature.tumblr.com/%22) you can go and admire as well!
> 
> Come shout at me on my [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/) while you're at it


	11. A Distant Storm Darkens the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy plays some exy and Jean starts an argument

Come hell or high water, a bonded team or a shamble of individual players, the season waits for no man, woman or anyone in between. As such, Jeremy found himself standing with his team, waiting for the arrival of the team bus. Their first game of the season was all too soon for his liking. Every season came too early for his liking; he always reached the first game feeling woefully unprepared.

 

Things _had_ improved over the last few weeks. The first-years were finding their footing and the seniors starting to pull their weight as the first game approached. Jean, at least on the court, was integrating in well. Off the court was still a work in progress, but even that was slowly improving - Jean had only had one angry outburst in front of the team this week. In the privacy of their apartment, it was a different matter—Jeremy frequently found himself trying to soothe Jean as he ranted about the team's inadequacies—but Jeremy knew you couldn't expect everything at once.

 

Unfortunately, things between Jean and Avery remained hostile, despite Jeremy's best efforts and total consternation. Jeremy had pulled Avery aside the day after he'd overheard Laila and Jean's conversation. They had talked, and Jeremy had tried to make sure there were no hard feelings without directly bringing Jean into it. While Avery had been congenial during their conversation, he and Jean were once again at loggerheads the very next training. Which put Jeremy back at square one. He had also tried talking to Jean, but other than a general impression of dislike, he had made little to no headway on that front either.

 

Jean fidgeted next to him, distracting Jeremy from his thoughts. As he glanced over, Jeremy observed how tired Jean looked. Admittedly, Jean always looked tired. Even after nights he appeared to sleep well, there was something perpetually exhausted that seemed to cling to him, in his posture, the tightness of his mouth, the squint of his eyes. Today, however, Jean looked a more tangible sort of tired, the direct result of not enough sleep showing in his unfocused gaze and the bags below his eyes. Jeremy had been observing the cause all week, had seen the number of sleeping hours Jean had been getting reduce each night the game drew closer.

 

It worried Jeremy to see someone with such a tenuous hold on sleep let it slip even further, but he didn't feel like he was in a position to comment. As it was every year, Jeremy's own sleep lost its battle with normalcy the closer he got to the first game of the season. It had been this way long before he started college, but it had steadily worsened since he'd joined the Trojans, particularly after he had been appointed as captain. For Jeremy, it was a combination of nerves and excitement. The sheer terror that his team - or he - would crash and burn in the first match of the year, and the adrenaline-inducing exhilaration at the thought of being back on the court, combined in a way that made sleep next to impossible.

 

In the years previous, this meant that Jeremy found himself hitting the gym at increasingly erratic times and spending hours on end staring at the ceiling, trying not to disturb Avery with his tossing and turning. Which meant he came to the first game a jittery, overworked mess, and although the game always went well enough, it was often one of his worst of each season. This year—although still in sleep debt—Jeremy found himself on game day feeling pretty average, which was far better than he’d usually expect. He knew exactly where to direct his gratitude as well. The space he and Jean had created over the break had allowed him to fidget around the apartment at odd hours instead of forcing him into burning energy at the gym, putting less pressure on his body. He didn’t feel guilty if he just dropped off for a nap at some random point in the day when his body finally did decide it was tired, so he was significantly more rested.

 

Having a teammate that understood at least some of his restless anxiety actually helped as well. When he sat up until 3am watching old Wolves’ matches, Jean didn’t scoff like Avery would, but would leave him to his notes. Or, as had happened on occasion, when Jean stumbled out of bed at some point in the early hours to find Jeremy still in front of the screen with pen and paper in hand, he would make two hot chocolates and would sit down and watch with him. No questions or judgement.

 

Jeremy glanced up and saw the team bus rounding the corner. "So," he started, turning to Jean. "Do you prefer sitting up the front or the back?"

 

Jean looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "What?"

 

"You know," Jeremy continued. "Where on the bus is comfiest?"

 

"I've always been up the front?" It should have been a statement, but it came out more like a question. Jeremy wondered if Jean had ever had a choice as to where he sat or if he'd just sat where he was told. Did Ravens have assigned seating? The thought was almost amusing but was darkened somewhat by the image of Jean being forced to sit next to Riko for the long hours leading up to and after a game.

 

"So, you like sitting up the front?" Jeremy pushed - knowing that Jean had issues with people approaching him from behind; it was hard to imagine the front of the bus being a relaxing location for him.

 

"Not really," Jean conceded hesitantly.

 

"Cool," Jeremy smiled. "We can sit down the back then. Do you want the window or aisle?"

 

"We?" Jean asked, frowning in confusion.

 

"Yeah, I thought we’d sit together?" Suddenly Jeremy realized that he'd taken Jean's choices away from him the same way Riko had.

 

 _Of course it's you!_ Jean’s voice exclaimed in his head, all venom and hate. _You're both captains!_ The words had been said gently, as an explanation, but now they sounded like an accusation. "I-I mean," Jeremy stuttered, trying to dig himself out of this hole before his own mind buried him in it, "only if you want to?"

 

Jean gave him another confused look, his eyes flitting across Jeremy's face, searching for _something._ What, Jeremy didn’t know - proof he wasn’t a psychopath, maybe? Jeremy rarely had had such an unhindered look at Jean’s face, particularly this close. He found himself transfixed on Jean’s eyes - they were such a clear shade of blue, framed by dark lashes and soft hints at the lines that would one day form with age. As the confusion faded from Jean’s expression and another emotion began to form, Jeremy found he had to look away, not prepared to see disgust or fear cloud Jean's gaze.

 

Jean made a humming sound as Jeremy examined a jagged crack in the sidewalk. "The window is fine for me."

 

Jeremy looked back up: Jean was still looking at him, one eyebrow raised in an unasked question that Jeremy chooses not to answer. "You're sure?" He managed to make it sound more like a clarification more than a need for reassurance, he thought. Hoped.

 

"Well, people are going to be coming down to talk to you, I'm sure, and I don't want to have to deal with them."

 

Jeremy let out a weak laugh as the bus pulled up in front of them. "Well, then I'm happy to oblige," he said, moving forward to stow his gear.

 

* * *

 

“INTRODUCING THE USC TROOOOOJANS!” the announcer boomed.

 

The crowd roared.

 

Jeremy breathed in.

 

And out.

 

And _at last_ jogged onto the court.

 

The crowd wouldn’t be able to see past his helmet, but his face was plastered with his broadest smile at he waved at the cheering fans. One end of the stand was awash with red and gold. People waved posters—he wasn't able to make any out from this distance—and stomped feet. Even if it was an away match, it was the first game of the season, and the turnout was huge.

 

Jeremy felt like his body was about jump out of his skin; that in his excitement his body had grown too large and could no longer be contained. It was impossible to just stand still. As the national anthem played, his knees jiggled, shoulders jumping. He was still grinning.

 

He shook hands with Nevada’s captain, wishing him a good game. All the while the voice in his head was chanting that it was time to go, go, GO!

 

Finally, they were all in position. Avery and Alvarez were their starting backs, Laila behind them. Jean would be coming around the time they hit the first quarter mark. Jeremy was up with Chad, one of the more promising first years who had been included in this week’s team—6 players had been benched this week to match the Wolves’ numbers—in offence.

 

The whistle blew.

 

There was the crack of the dealer sending the ball ricocheting up the court.

 

Jeremy breathed in.

 

And out.

 

And sprinted after the ball.

 

Not that he ever really forgot, but Jeremy was suddenly explicitly aware of why he had dedicated so much of his life to exy. Even after all the struggles over the summer and the tension of pre-season, it was all worth it. To be in a real game, to battle against real opponents. The rush when the goal lit up red and frustration when you were blocked at the last minute. He could leave everything behind, he didn’t have to be tactful or evenhanded, he didn’t even have to speak—although, realistically, calling to teammates was a part of the game. So much of exy was sheer physicality, and he loved it with every fibre of his being.

 

He caught the ball in the net of his racquet, one the Wolves’ defenders close on his tail. Chad shouted his name. Jeremy was already setting up the pass as he looked up; locking onto Chad, he adjusted his aim and sent the ball flying just ahead of where Chad was running. Chad caught it effortlessly. Took the shot on goal. The goalie dove and swung and the ball was sent hurtling off to the other end of the court.

 

Alvarez caught it as it rebounded off the far wall and flung it to Avery just as she was crashed into by one of the forwards. It was clearly within the three-second rule, but the Trojan end of the crowd bellowed in disapproval anyway. Jeremy couldn’t stop to see if she was okay, Avery was running the ball back up his side of the court. He started jogging backwards, zig-zagging to try and shake his mark.

 

Jeremy dashed left to clear some space, but Avery had left the pass too late and was crushed against the wall by the dealer, who had used slightly too much force and lost their own footing - and the ball - as they attempted to recover. Jeremy had to rapidly change direction but managed to sprint forward and scoop the slowly rolling ball into his net. The ball in his control, he whirled and sent it flying toward Chad, before aggressively shouldering the still-charging backliner to avoid losing his footing. The Trojan fans booed again, but the ref’s whistle still didn’t blow.

 

With minimal time to read the play, Chad, in his inexperience, found himself poorly positioned and barely got his racket to the ball before he was floored by Nevada’s other backliner, who at 6’6 was a monster on the court. Jeremy was already sprinting, his lungs burning. The backliner was jogging down the court, about to send the ball flying towards his own forwards, when Jeremy slammed into him with enough force to make his teeth rattle.

 

The goliath stumbled back but remained standing. Jeremy pushed his advantage, their rackets clashed, and Jeremy managed to steal the ball as the back tried to regain his footing. With no time to even glance in Chad’s direction, Jeremy shot the ball at the wall to his right with as much force as he could. It rebounded with an almighty crash.

 

The back swore and whirled around, but had no chance of catching up to his target. Chad had managed to intercept Jeremy’s wild pass, had dodged around the remaining back, and Jeremy whooped as the goal lit up red, marking the Trojan’s first point of the season and Chad his first point in varsity exy. It was messy, but it was a goal, and in the end, that's what really mattered. Jeremy crashed into Chad and all but swept the kid off his feet in celebration.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy was breathing heavily. They were 5 minutes into the second half. The score was 4-3 in the Trojan's favour. The gap was nowhere as large as he wanted it to be, and the ball was down Nevada's end of the court.

 

The Wolves’ striker was making a beeline for goal and Laila was moving restlessly, trying to anticipate his shot. Before he had a chance to shoot, however, he was brutally floored by Jean, who seemed to come almost out of nowhere and crash into the striker at what must have been full speed. How Jean managed to get control of the ball at the same time was actually beyond Jeremy, and he was definitely going to have to focus on that when the team reviewed the game on Monday.

 

Being on court with Jean during a proper match was an electrifying experience. There was an energy Jean brought that he never had in training and that most players would never possess at all. Jean had always been one of the most talented people on any court, and being able to play as his teammate rather than battling against him on another team was a privilege Jeremy didn’t intend to take for granted. Jeremy felt as if he had to pull off impossible feats just to prove he was worthy of even being in the same game.

 

Jean had rapidly passed the ball to Avery and sprinted up the court to provide Avery with a free team member to pass to when the Wolves closed in. It was a good play, and Jeremy began to move, so he was in a position that freed him to receive the ball from Jean.

 

With Nevada's dealer moving to block Avery’s path and a striker closing in on his rear, it was exactly the time for him to clear the ball. He looked up, saw Jean was gloriously open and... bounced the ball off the wall and back to his own racket, catching it cleanly only to have it stolen off him by the dealer moments later. The dealer bounced the ball off the wall and into the netting of the waiting striker, who, with both the Trojan’s backs halfway up the court, had an easy run to goal. Laila did her best but missed the ball by an inch and the wall behind her lit up red.

 

4-4.

 

Jeremy swore under his breath. What a fucking _senseless_ play. He couldn’t even fathom what Avery had expected the outcome to be. Literally anyone in that situation, even someone who had never even heard of exy before, could see that he should have passed to Jean. Jeremy couldn't make out the words, but he could hear Jean shouting at Avery as the made their way back to their starting positions. If Jeremy was in hearing range he would have been shouting too - actually, he probably wouldn’t have, because that wasn’t a productive way to deal with these things, but he would have been _sorely_ tempted.

 

Nevada's dealer slammed the ball down the court once again, and their other striker decided it was their turn for a goal. They didn't get far before Jean was slamming them up against the wall hard enough that Jeremy ached just watching. The ball once more in his possession, Jean progressed once more towards Jeremy. The dealer tried to block him in, and Jean passed them the ball only to slam his shoulder into them moments later, stealing the ball and sending them reeling. The crowd thundered.  

 

The backliners moved up to box him in, and Avery called out to signal he was open. Jean actually took the time to look across at Avery, showing he'd heard and then looked over at Jeremy. The two backs were between Jean and Jeremy, and it was clearly not the way Jean should send the ball. Even if he wasn't going to pass to Avery, the Trojans’ dealer was in a reasonable position, not the best, but it would have been workable.

 

Jean met Jeremy's eyes, and while running at top speed towards the backliners, flicked his head ever so slightly to the right, and Jeremy was sprinting towards centre court. Jean barreled into the closer backliner, clearing the space between him and Jeremy for just a split second before the other managed to move in. In that time, Jean shot the ball a few meters ahead of Jeremy at full force.

 

Jeremy put on speed, even though every muscle in his legs screamed in protest. He caught the ball in his net, swerved around the dealer who tried to stop him and continued at breakneck speed towards goal.

 

The Wolves’ goalie—one of the best in southwest district—rocked gently from side to side as he prepared to intercede Jeremy's attack. Jeremy made to move left and instead moved right, but the goalie saw through that and moved with him. At the last second, Jeremy pulled his shot up and sent the ball high and just left of centre instead of into the top right corner as he'd originally intended. The goalie had already committed and although he tried to change course when he saw what Jeremy was doing, it had been too late and Jeremy shouted in celebration as the goal lit up red again. He turned around and caught Jean's eye as he picked himself out of the tangle of limbs that was him and the two backliners. Jeremy, still cheering, jabbed his stick into the air in celebration towards Jean. Jean looked relatively unmoved but gave Jeremy a slight nod of acknowledgement.

 

* * *

 

The final score was 7-5 with the Trojans maintaining their lead for the rest of the game. It wasn't the most impressive start to the season he'd had, but if it were down to the score alone, Jeremy would have been happy. Unfortunately, the absolute disaster that had been the team dynamic on the court left him feeling rather despondent, despite the win.

 

As soon as they made it off the court, Avery had rounded on Jean. Getting right up in his face as he demanded: "What the hell was that?"

 

Jeremy could understand his frustration; Jean hadn't passed to him for the rest of the game, even when it was the most obvious play. Instead Jean had relied on his own skills to get the ball back towards the goal and mainly into Jeremy’s waiting net. Although, unlike Avery, Jean had the sense to pass to other available players if it was apparent Jeremy would either never get or immediately lose possession.

 

Jeremy could also understand Jean's decision though. He, like Jean, had seen Avery refuse to make the pass to Jean. Jean was fully aware he was one of the best players on the court and it made sense in a jumbled sort of way that he relied on his own skills instead of passing to someone who was both less competent and unwilling to work with him because of some kind of petty, off-court grudge.

 

Jean met Avery head on, refusing to step back as the other closed in. Avery wasn't short, but Jean was significantly taller and made the difference known as he squared his shoulders. Jeremy had a hard time reconciling the timid Jean he usually had to deal with and this sudden unmovable tower of anger. "I could ask you the same thing. You cost us a goal and easily could have cost us the game." His voice was level, but Jeremy could hear the underlying tension.

 

"So, they got to ball off me. It's not like that didn't happen to every single other player who touched the court tonight, and you still passed to _them_ ," Avery snarled, wildly gesturing at the other Trojans.

 

"They didn't clearly see and then entirely ignore an open player when a blind man could see that they were outnumbered," Jean snarled. "I don't care what you think of me off the court, or if you don't listen to my advice in training. But if you actively fuck up our game then you're playing for the other team, and I will treat you as the opposition."

 

"The opposition? _You're_ the Raven!" It was apparent Avery had completely lost hold on his temper and from the look on Jean’s face, he would soon follow. Jeremy decided to step in before things escalated further.

 

"Avery!" He snapped. "Showers. Now."

 

Avery turned towards him and opened his mouth to protest, but Jeremy was entirely done with this conversation. They had _won,_ they shouldn't be tearing each other apart. "We'll talk about this on Monday. You too, Jean," he added as an afterthought, forever trying to be the diplomat.

 

Jean's face, which had tightened when Jeremy had interrupted their argument, paled dramatically. Jeremy internally kicked himself for not approaching Jean more gently but also felt hamstrung. As much as Jeremy tried to avoid it, sometimes he needed to address Jean as a captain, and he wasn't sure how to do that without damaging their already fragile relationship. He wanted to add something, to lessen the blow, but Jean had already turned and was heading for the change rooms.

 

Jeremy tried to tamp down on his frustration; at the game, at Avery, at the team in general, but it simmered over. Exy was meant to be _fun_ , _god damn it_. The rest of the team stared at him, all looking somewhat subdued.

 

"I'm going to go front the press, Alvarez, you're with me," he snapped. Alvarez was, without a doubt, one of the best when it came to post-game interviews, and with his shambles of a backline, he needed all the help he could get. "The rest of you hit the showers. And for god’s sake, look happy! We won!" he called over his shoulder as he stomped from the room.

 

* * *

 

Everyone was in the showers by the time Jeremy had finished with the press, and he was expecting the locker room to be empty by the time he got out. He thought he was alone when he exited the cubicle to put his gear away until he found Jean lurking near the bench with his bag. Jean was stiff and still, and it unsettled Jeremy more than he had been in weeks.

 

Jean had clearly heard Jeremy approach but kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground. Jeremy made his way over to his bag, not entirely sure why Jean was here or what he should say. He decided the best course of action was to remain silent and give Jean the space to speak if he wanted it.

 

After all his stuff was in his bag and it was zipped up, Jeremy looked askance at Jean, which he realised after he'd done it was pointless, given Jean hadn't even glanced in his direction yet. Jeremy was unsure if Jean wanted him to stay—presumably to talk—or if he was waiting so they could leave at the same time, much like they would after practice most days. Or maybe he was waiting for Jeremy to leave, wanting to be alone. Although, Jeremy thought, if Jean wanted to be left alone he probably wouldn't have stood right next to Jeremy's gear, but you never knew with Jean.

 

Jean spoke before Jeremy could decide how best to voice his questions. "I wanted to apologise for my conduct on the court today," he started, his language formal and his posture rigid.

 

Jean continued to look at the ground as he apologised. Jeremy knew this pose wasn't unusual when Jean was a bit freaked out by something—usually Jeremy's own stupid, oafish actions—but something about Jean’s stiffness, combined with his words, made it appear as if he was bowing in deference, rather than cowering. The thought that Jean was trying to pay him the respect he understood a captain deserved churned Jeremy’s stomach. He wanted to reach out and raise Jean's face; to make him meet Jeremy's gaze; or shake him until he lost his rigidity; or shout at him that he wasn’t Riko, or just hold him until he was okay again; or _anything_. But he knew none of those actions would help Jean, and even the thought of imposing his own desires on Jean in any of those ways made him feel disgusted with.

 

"I'm aware that my actions weren't in line with what you would expect from a player on your team, and recognise that I could have handled the situation better, now that I'm out of the heat of the moment," Jean continued, unaware of the ugly, unhappy thoughts milling around in Jeremy's head.

 

At the end of his apology speech, Jean paused. Jeremy wondered if this was the part of the script where he was meant to speak, but none of his words seemed adequate. He wanted to tell Jean that it was okay, that he didn’t need to apologise like this, say something supportive and caring, but his thoughts just kept circling in unhelpful sprawls of self-deprecation, jamming all his pathways. They stood there in a deeply uncomfortable and tense silence, as Jeremy willed himself to say _literally anything at all._  

 

Then, Jean took a deep, shuddering breath. It was so sudden and unexpected, Jeremy almost jumped. As he exhaled, Jean’s entire posture changed. His shoulders dropped, his muscles loosened. His chin lifted as if he wanted to properly look at Jeremy, but it paused, as it often did, at chest height instead—an erstwhile thought in Jeremy's brain hoped Jean never did that to Alvarez.

 

Jeremy wasn’t sure what had sparked Jean’s sudden change, but he looked more himself now, and some of the knot Jeremy didn’t realise had been forming in his chest loosened. Jean still looked tense though, in a way Jeremy had started to associate with him pushing boundaries, or more often than not, asking super reasonable questions that he thought were overstepping. "I know you said you wanted to deal with this on Monday," Jean started, and Jeremy was relieved that the almost robotic formality in his speech had disappeared. "But," he paused and took another breath, “can we talk about it now? I don't think- I don't think I'll cope well with the wait," he explained, voice weak and apologetic, running a hand through his still damp hair.

 

Jeremy realised his mistake instantly. Leaving Jean to stew with the threat of punishment for an entire weekend, even for half an hour, was a punishment all of its own. Jeremy couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough to think his diplomacy before fronting the press was for the best.

 

"Jean, I'm not actually mad at you," he started, deciding to make that clear before going into the rest of the explanation.

 

Jean's brow furrowed in confusion.

 

"Yes, I'm mad," Jeremy conceded. "But definitely not at you. I'm mad at Avery for being such a fuck, and I'm annoyed at Rheman for not taking one or both of you off the court and figuring out what was going on. And yes, I kind of wish you’d done it differently, given him a second chance or something, but I definitely understand where you were coming from and many people would say it was the right choice given the circumstances."

 

Jean's gaze strayed closer to Jeremy's own. "Even if a lot of my rationale wasn't actually what was the best course of action and just me taking my frustration out instead?" He asked, and Jeremy was relieved to hear he sounded less afraid and more sheepish.

 

Jeremy laughed, although more to allay Jean's concern than because it was funny, although it was amusing. "Look, I'm a bit exasperated, but honestly I do understand. If you did something like freeze out half the team there would be an issue, but you didn’t so, in my opinion, it’s fine."

 

Jean nodded tentatively. "So I'm not actually in trouble?"

 

"Nope. Unfortunately though, I'm going to have to pull you in on Monday as well, to try smooth things over between you and Avery. But really, the only reason I included you before was to try and not put Avery's nose even further out of joint,” Jeremy explained. “And I’m sorry for putting that stress on you and not realising.”

 

Jean huffed a deep sigh, relaxing further still. "That's fine."

 

Jeremy spent a moment looking Jean over, as if he could see the damage he’d done and whether he’d patched it properly - realising Jean wasn’t going to suddenly have cracks, he decided all he could do was move on. "All good? Cos we should really be getting back on the bus, 4-hour drive home and all." Jean hummed in agreement.

 

They walked back to the bus in silence, but Jeremy was learning to recognise these calmer silences as companionable, and honestly, after the game, he was too tired to try and keep up a conversation with Jean anyway.

 

The rest of the team was just finishing loading their gear, so to Jeremy's relief, his mistakes hadn't delayed the team. After getting their own gear in, much like their trip to Nevada, Jeremy and Jean were the first to board. Unlike their journey up, Jean paused before taking his seat.

 

"You look exhausted," he said, turning back to Jeremy. "Take the window seat and get some sleep on the way home."

 

Jeremy was tired but protested anyway. "I'm happy to take the aisle, you said you prefer the window anyway."

 

"No it's fine, I won't sleep on the bus, one of us might as well."

 

Jeremy was about to insist, but Jean must have realised and cut him off. "Think of it has an apology for making you do twice as much running as you should have today." It was bordering dangerously close to a compliment. Jeremy felt the tips of his ears pinken and hoped they were hidden under his hair--he'd been meaning to get a haircut for weeks and was suddenly glad he hadn't.

 

"Alright, if you're sure?" Jean nodded, and Jeremy squeezed past him and into the seat. Usually, Jeremy wasn't one for sleeping on the team bus; he liked to be a part of the shenanigans on the way home, particularly if they won. However, the lack of sleep leading up to the game, combined with more game time than he was used to, and having Jean run him ragged, meant that he was asleep before they'd even made it to the interstate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you add 1500 words to a chapter? Just add in a sports game :') please note I do not sport the ball, so I really hope the sports sequences make sense!
> 
> Thank you all again for all the wonderful comments and leaving kudos, you always make me smile.
> 
> Go check out [Rachel Ren's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars) glittery [tumblr](https://glitter-ature.tumblr.com/%22) and give her some love for reading all my drafts!
> 
> Come shout at me on my [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/) while you're at it


	12. Blessed Are The Righteous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean starts a fight and Jeremy gets punched

Jeremy lay low over the weekend, hoping to avoid the fallout from the game for as long as possible. Jean, who didn't know Jeremy's tendencies to party with the team after a win, didn't seem to think much of this and was content to watch recordings of other Friday matches with Jeremy, or study in relative silence for a fair chunk of the weekend. Both Alvarez and Laila popped in—at separate times of course—to see how the two of them were doing. Alvarez was so disgusted about their "studiousness" that she dragged them out for dinner, which Jean complained had "absolutely no nutritional value whatsoever."

 

Monday wasn't a bundle of laughs—Jeremy and coach Rheman had to talk to both Jean and Avery about the game before training. Jeremy was thankful that Rheman had suggested two separate meetings, which meant Jean avoided the worst of the fallout. Then they brought the two boys in, to shake hands and move on. Jeremy had hoped then that that would be the last of it and they'd manage to bury the hatchet.

 

At practice, it even looked like he might be right: Jean and Avery didn’t go out of their way to team up or anything, but they worked together on the court without any issues; the drills went smoothly; and it was, for once, peaceful in the change rooms after practice. Jeremy, trying to smooth over any still-ruffled feathers, made sure to pat Avery on the back and tell him he'd done a good job on the court that day.

 

The first hint Jeremy got at brewing discontent—although he entirely missed at the time—was as he walked home with Jean.

 

Jean had been frowning sullenly at the sidewalk for a good five minutes as they walked, and Jeremy had been in the middle of debating whether or not he should ask what was up when Jean finally asked: "I don't understand what Avery did so well today."

 

Jeremy, clearly failing to understand just how deep resentment still ran between the two, hadn't considered that while trying to smooth things over with Avery he would actually be increasing Jean's resentment. "Well, he didn't antagonise anyone, and he passed you the ball," Jeremy answered honestly.

 

Jean's frown had deepened. "I didn't realise that was the standard we were working to achieve. Maybe I should worry less."

 

"C'mon, Jean," Jeremy sighed. Jean stiffened slightly at his exasperated tone, and Jeremy felt a pang of guilt. He couldn't believe how continuously he exacerbated Jean's anxiety through his own carelessness, but there wasn't much he could do now. "You know that's not true. Honestly, I'm just trying to stroke Avery's ego a little, so things work a bit smoother around here. You and I both know he's in the wrong, and him feeling sullen and hard done by isn't going to improve our chances at finals this season."

 

"Him understanding that he can't pull that during a game without consequences would, though," Jean had snapped, then quickened his pace, so he walked slightly ahead of Jeremy.

 

* * *

 

Tuesday was _fine_ , Jeremy supposed, but there was a definite tension on the court. Jean seemed in no mood to put up with any kind of imperfection on the court. Even Jeremy, who usually suffered less of Jean's tirades than the rest of the team, found Jean repeatedly snapping at him for not being good enough. It was Avery though, who seemed to take the brunt of it—nothing he did was without criticism, and by the end of the training, he stormed off the court.

 

Jean, in comparison, practically dawdled. Jeremy, after showering and changing, came out to an empty locker room. After checking to see Jean wasn't waiting in the team meeting area, or even, for whatever reason, in Rheman's office, he wandered back to the court to see Jean running accuracy drills on his own. Jeremy stopped and watched as Jean hit the ball to the back of the goal before catching it once again. He repeated this process, forming an 'X' across the back of the goal. It must have been a Raven accuracy drill, because it wasn't one Jeremy had seen before. He couldn't help but marvel at the precision.

 

Eventually Jean finished with his personal practice, turning around and visibly starting when he saw Jeremy leaning against the open court door. Jean took a half step back, eyes darting around as if looking for another exit, or maybe other foes. Jeremy, realising he'd penned Jean in, quickly stepped back and out of the doorway. He bit the inside of his cheek in his frustration—why did he find it so hard to grasp a simple concept like not sneaking up on Jean?

 

Jean, for his part, seemed to settle when Jeremy backed away from the door. Although he still looked wary as he walked over to Jeremy, he'd lost the panicked edge to his expression. "Sorry, I lost track of time."

 

"Oh, no worries," Jeremy reassured. "I was just enjoying watching. I can't imagine anyone on our team pulling that drill off."

 

Jean's lips thinned slightly in annoyance. "No, I can't imagine they would either," he paused to consider. "No, a few could, maybe, Alvarez has a good eye and a good arm. Nicholas, the first year? It would be wonky, but passable, I think. You, of course. The rest, no chance."

 

Jeremy tried to ignore the warm feeling he got in his chest when Jean complimented him. He had a particular goal in mind for this conversation, had seen an opportunity to gently nudge it in the way he wanted it to go, and couldn't afford the distraction. "You know that's okay though, right? Not all of us need that level of accuracy to make this team a great one."

 

"It would help, though," Jean replied, unswayed.

 

"It would," Jeremy was forced to concede. "But for most of them, they won't follow this through past varsity, and most don't have the time in the day between regular practice and study to perfect a skill like this."

 

Jean nodded, looking as if he was waiting for Jeremy to get to the point.

 

"I guess what I'm saying is, maybe you can take it a bit easier on everyone during practice? They're good players, we both know it, but they're never going to be Ravens in terms of skill," Jeremy wanted to add that the only reasons Ravens had that skill was because of abusive and amoral training regimes, but decided to hold his tongue.

 

Jeremy watched Jean's jaw clench and loosen, clench and loosen. Finally, Jean nodded again. "I was harsher than I should have been today. I know they're not Ravens. I don't _want_ them to be Ravens," he added, a slightly vacant look in his eyes.

 

Jeremy was suddenly at a loss for what to say. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, and when it didn't clear, he just nodded.

 

* * *

 

Wednesday's practice was good. Jean had curbed his frustration and had returned to his usual slightly terse, but mostly useful, version of constructive criticism. Unfortunately, Avery wasn't in a good mood, and it wasn't helping his performance on the court in the slightest. His mood and his performance seemed to be exacerbated by any pointers anyone tried to give him, although his responses were most hostile towards Jean.

 

Jeremy, as captain, went over to him towards the end of practice.

 

"You know the others are just trying to help, right?" he asked in a friendly tone. He wasn't actually feeling particularly friendly towards Avery today, watching his continued belligerence towards Jean had actually put Jeremy in a bad mood of his own. Sadly, for Jeremy, he was a captain and couldn't let his emotions, or his soulmate, get in the way of how he dealt with his players.

 

"I wish he'd just mind his own business," Avery growled.

 

"Who, you mean Jean?"

 

Avery nodded. _What is it with these boys?_ Jeremy wondered in exasperation. Even when they weren't actively antagonising each other, they just seemed utterly unable to see eye to eye.

 

"What about the rest of the team, they've been trying to help too?"

 

"I wish they'd all mind their business! I'm doing just fine!" Jeremy disagreed, but he knew there were a time and a place to push the point.

 

He clapped a hand on Avery's shoulder as a show of support. "None of us are saying you're a bad player. We're just trying to make you a better one.” And before Avery could say something that would break Jeremy's tenuous hold on his own temper, he jogged off towards the drill the offensive line was just finishing organising.

 

Jean hadn't risen to Avery's antagonism, so when Jeremy saw him approach Avery as they all walked off the court after practice, he didn't intercede. He did slow down his pace so he could catch the conversation.

 

"It's been pointed out to me I can come across a bit harsh at times," Jean started.

 

Avery snorted and responded with, "you think?" Jeremy rolled his eyes at the continued belligerence. How old was he? Five?

 

Jean paused, and Jeremy could all but hear his intake of breath as he reined in his temper. Jeremy felt a swell of gratitude that Jean was making such an effort, even if it was just to improve the team.

 

"Look, this is just how I am, and if I come across as overly critical, I'm, sorry. I'm just trying to get us all up to our best potential."

 

Jeremy hoped Avery didn't hear the slight pause as Jean apologised, but doubted it was noticeable to anyone who didn't speak to Jean as often as he did. Maybe Avery had, though, because his next response had moved from rude to openly hostile. "Well, maybe you should try treating us a bit more like your Ravens, instead of incompetent fools," he growled.

 

Before Jean had a chance to respond, or Jeremy had an opportunity to turn around and tell Avery that his behaviour just wasn't on, Avery had stormed past them. He bypassed the locker room and left the arena entirely. Jeremy turned around to Jean who looked equal measures shocked and outraged. Jeremy was pretty sure he had a similar look on his own face.

 

Jean met Jeremy's gaze. "Well, that went worse than I imagined it would."

 

"Thanks for trying, though." It felt weak and not enough, but Jeremy was genuinely appreciative that Jean had stopped and listened to what he'd been saying and had actually put effort into following through.

 

"He's just such a fucking ass," Jean sighed.

 

Jeremy laughed. "He really is, isn't he?"

 

* * *

 

Everything came to a head on Thursday. Jeremy wasn't even sure what he had been watching on the court at practice, but he was sure it couldn't have been exy. Jean had seemed in a good mood that morning, or at least Jean's version of a good mood. They'd gotten ready for practice, chatted amicably with Alvarez on strategy for tomorrows, gotten changed and hit the court. Up until then, everything had looked like it was going to be a good day. Then Jean went and purposefully paired himself with Avery for drills, and Jeremy just had to stand and watch as the whole training crumbled before his eyes.

 

Jeremy supposed the training itself could have gone worse. Jean and Avery didn't actively disrupt the practice in any way, per se. They definitely ran the drills. But while the training wasn’t necessarily a write-off, that didn't mean it was, by any stretch of the imagination, successful.

 

Jean, somewhere between the lockers and the court, seemed to have undergone a transformation. Where he was usually brisque and curt, happy to tell you where you'd gone wrong and why but not a _complete_ asshole about it most of the time, he was now suddenly harsh, cruel and dismissive.

 

Jeremy, who had seen Jean walk over to Avery at the beginning of training, delayed starting drills with his own partner to make sure the two didn't start another fight. So, he saw as Jean began to fire ball after ball at Avery, whose job was to catch them and put them in the bucket next to him. It was meant to assist in catching and manoeuvrability.

 

Jean didn't give Avery a chance to breathe. He shot precision shot after precision shot to where Avery's racket should be, with just enough time for Avery to dump the ball and reposition, as long as he was fast and didn't fumble any of the steps. Avery wasn't a bad player, but he wasn't anywhere near Jean's level. Shot after shot Avery fumbled, too rushed to catch the ball cleanly, and with no time to dump it in the bucket, he'd often just let it drop to the ground. Half the balls Jean sent hurtling his way he just wasn't able to catch, even though under normal circumstances they were clean shots that would have all but landed in his net effortlessly.

 

Jean remained silent through all of Avery's fumbles but continued to almost robotically fire ball's at his partner. Avery seemed too stunned to speak, or perhaps he was just overwhelmed. When it came time to swap he was red and panting, and angrily walked around slamming missed balls into the bucket.

 

To say Avery mimicked Jean, now he had the chance to be on the arguably simpler end of the exercise, would be an insult to Jean. Avery _attempted_ to pull off what Jean had done so effortlessly. He clearly channelled his anger into the hardest, fastest shots he could manage, but his temper made him clumsy, and his shots often went astray, which only served to highlight the ease at which Jean performed his end of the drill.

 

Considering the situation, Jeremy shouldn't have been distracted by Jean's artistry on the court, but he found himself staring at Jean and fumbling his own catches. Hopefully, Alvarez assumed he was just worried about what was going on with the team.

 

Rheman barked at Jean to join Jeremy at the end of the drill, trying to separate the boys. Jean, when paired with Jeremy returned to being his slightly skittish, conscientious—if somewhat gruff—self. Jeremy was beyond confused, but at this point didn't see the purpose in trying to reason with Jean. He wasn't quite sure why Jean was going out of his way to antagonise Avery today, but if his attempts earlier in the week hadn't helped, trying to have a conversation about it and calm the situation down again over drills was without a doubt not going to work. Jeremy worried the inside of his cheek with his teeth to try and cope with the stress.

 

Eventually, Rheman was forced to split the team up into position-based drills, and Jean resumed running complete circles around Avery. Except that this time, every time Avery stumbled, miss-stepped, was too slow, wasn't accurate enough, was flawed in some perceptible way, Jean barked a rebuke. It wasn't loud enough for it to be apparent to most of the team, but Jeremy had positioned himself nearby ready to intervene if the situation escalated, and was thus privy to the litany of "faster! No! Sloppy! God, how many times do I have to tell you to keep your racket down!" coming from behind him. He also heard Avery muttering curses and slurs, but at least he didn't start another fight on the court.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy was deliberately slow at the end of practice, purposely making sure Jean and Avery were in the showers before he grabbed his clothes and went to wash just in case there was a repeat of their post-game performance from last week. Both Jean and Avery seemed entirely uninterested in talking to each other as they stalked into the bathrooms, and Jeremy's concerns were allayed enough that he let the allure of the warm shower lull his jangled nerves for longer than he usually would have. He was surprised to hear heated male voices when he finally turned off the water—no, to hear _harsh_ male voices echoing from the locker room.

 

Jeremy's heart dropped, and he rushed to pull clothes over damp skin. He couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough to indulge in a long shower, leaving the boys space to go head to head with no witnesses. Hair still dripping and forgoing shoes, Jeremy rushed out.

 

He froze at the bathroom door. They were standing maybe a foot apart, aggressively leaning into each other, so caught up in their petty fucking conflict they didn't notice Jeremy's less than stealthy entrance. Jean's face was pale and pulled taut in fury, his knuckles white with tension. Avery was red, a vein popping from his forehead.

 

Jeremy had arrived in time to hear Avery, all but shouting, "You were trying to fucking what?"

 

Jean was quieter and his anger calmer, so his voice was even as he explained, "I was trying to treat you like a Raven. That's what you wanted me to do, wasn't it?" His tone was that of someone speaking to a slightly slow child.

 

"I wanted you to start treating us like teammates, instead of the fucking enemy." Jeremy felt his own face warm in anger.

 

"It's not my fault you can't keep up," Jean replied, spreading his hands out in a 'what can you do?' gesture.

 

That was very clearly the last straw for Avery. Jeremy _saw_ the snap and was already stepping forward to intercede as Avery started to move.

 

Jean seemed to realise it too, but he didn't move—his face became whiter, if anything. His gaze dropped, falling to Avery's chest as his body became rigid. _He's just going to stand there and let him,_ Jeremy realised as he dived forward. Avery was already mid-swing as Jeremy pulled Jean behind him, managing to remember to grab Jean's forearm and not his wrist at the last second.

 

Unfortunately, extracting Jean from harm's way meant Jeremy found himself on the receiving end of Avery's blow. It would have hit Jean square across the jaw, but Jeremy was several inches shorter and instead saw stars as the fist collided with the side of his face. Jeremy was sure he'd have a black eye and swollen cheek in the morning.

 

There was a moment of shocked silence as everyone processed what had happened and Jeremy blinked to clear his vision. Then everyone started to speak at once.

 

Behind him, Jean gasped, "Jeremy-"

 

In front, Avery's face lost all its colour, and he started a stuttering apology. "Captain! I'm so sorr-"

 

Jeremy didn't let either of them finish their sentences. He was done. He was _beyond_ done.

 

No one really believed it, but Jeremy had a nasty temper when it came down to it. No one really got into exy without some sort of violent streak, and it had taken a long time for him to get control of his. Still, sometimes he was pushed too far, and it would slip from his hold once again.

 

"I don't care," he cut Avery off and inadvertently silenced Jean at the same time. "I don't care what you think. I don't care what problem you have. I. Don't. Care. What I do care about is that you're made one hundred percent aware that you. Do. Not. Fucking. Punch. A. Teammate." Jeremy saw Avery through a haze of red, and it was all he could do not to cave into the voice in his head that was chanting _Kill him! Kill him! Kill him_! "And make no fucking mistake about it. Jean is a Trojan. He is your teammate. And you better start making a damn good effort to get along with him from now on, or _so help me god_."

 

Avery opened his mouth to say something, and Jeremy cut him off again. "No, no, I don't care. Remember? Also, don't bother turning up for the bus tomorrow. You're benched. In fact, don't bother turning up for training at all next week. And if I _ever_ see this kind of behaviour again, I will not hesitate to bench you for the rest of the season. It's not like we're short on players. Do I make myself clear?"

 

Avery nodded.

 

"Now get out," Jeremy growled.

 

When Avery didn't move fast enough, Jeremy followed the order with another, louder, "OUT." Avery turned on his heel and all but ran.

 

When the door was closed behind him Jeremy turned to look at Jean, who was looking at Jeremy's hand, still firmly closed around Jean's forearm. Jeremy dropped it as if he had been burned. "Sorry!"

 

Jean looked at Jeremy, and a mix of emotions warred over his face. Finally, he seemed to decide on annoyance. "Why do you always do that?"

 

Jeremy blinked in confusion. "Sorry," he said again. "But I can't let that behaviour go on on my team." Now he was calming down his face was starting to throb.

 

"No! That! Apologising for things that are out of your control!"

 

Jeremy looked at Jean, bewildered, and almost apologised again, catching himself at the last second.

 

Jean made an exasperated sound and started picking up the things he must have dropped on the floor earlier, putting them in his gym bag. "Go put on shoes," he instructed Jeremy tersely. Jeremy, too confused to even question Jean's annoyance, did as he was told.

 

* * *

 

Jean set a brisk pace on the way home. Jeremy trailed behind, head throbbing and feeling hard done by. He didn't understand why Jean was mad at him, he'd helped. Hadn't he? The last wisps of anger seared through his extremities, turning inwards, now that he had no one else deserving of its attention. Why had he taken so long in the shower? Why hadn't he pulled Avery back instead? He would have avoided invading Jean's space, and he could have saved his worthless face. He was so stupid; he honestly deserved to be punched.

 

Jean held the lift for him, but stalked ahead again as soon as the doors opened on their floor. At least he left the door to the apartment ajar—Jeremy had learned Jean could be quite petty when annoyed, and he wouldn't have run it past him to shut and lock the door just to make Jeremy go to the effort of getting his keys out and opening it again.

 

Jean was banging around in the kitchen and Jeremy, too tired to even try anymore, dropped his stuff by the door and dragged himself over to an armchair. He collapsed into it gracelessly and leant his head back with a groan, closing his eyes against the too bright light above him.

 

"Will you let me look at that?"

 

Jeremy started, he hadn't heard Jean leave the kitchen.

 

"What?" he asked, looking up at Jean, who was now standing in front of him, a dishcloth balled-up in one hand and what looked like damp tissues in the other.

 

Jean gestured to Jeremy's face.

 

"Oh, if you want? It's fine though. Just a bit bruised."

 

Jean gave him a withering look, reached out and ran a finger along Jeremy's jaw. Jeremy froze at the intimate contact, too scared to move, or breathe.

 

Jean pulled away anyway after only a matter of seconds, and held his hand in front of Jeremy's face. The finger was red with blood.

 

"Oh, I'm bleeding," Jeremy said stupidly.

 

"No shit," Jean muttered, crouching down, so he was no longer awkwardly stooping over Jeremy. This placed Jean firmly in Jeremy's personal bubble, and he was once again frozen. Looking down as Jean's chest brushed against his thighs, Jeremy's mind took an unexpected turn, and he suddenly found himself directing all his attention to not thinking of other reasons Jean would be kneeling between his legs.

 

Jean, oblivious to his thoughts, reached up and directed Jeremy's chin so he could deal with his apparently blood covered face. Jeremy tried not to wince as Jean carefully wiped at the blood with the damp tissues. "Sorry," Jean murmured but didn't stop.

 

"Is it bad?" Jeremy asked.

 

"No, he was wearing a ring and that just split the skin. You're not even bleeding that much," Jean answered as he gently moved Jeremy's head so he could have a better look. "Definitely doesn't need stitches, but you'll be puffy and sore for a few days."

 

Jeremy nodded, and Jean tsked in annoyance at the unexpected movement.

 

It probably wasn't more than a few minutes, but felt like a lifetime to Jeremy's sluggish brain before Jean was satisfied with his clean up job. Sitting back on his heels and, thankfully, giving Jeremy a bit of space, he picked up the balled-up dishcloth and pressed it to Jeremy's face.

 

Jeremy gave a contented sigh as Jean's makeshift icepack cooled his skin. He suddenly realised why the dishcloth had clunked when Jean had put it down earlier.

 

Jeremy reached up, accidentally brushing Jean's hand as he took over holding the icepack to his face. Jean let his hand fall a second later, but didn't move. He continued to stare up at Jeremy, his gaze searching. Jeremy, without anything to say, stared back. It was so unusual for him to have an unobstructed view of Jean's face, and he took his time looking at Jean's deep blue eyes, and the hints of crow’s feet forming at their corners. The Californian sun hadn't exactly tanned Jean, but he now had a light smattering of tiny freckles across his cheekbones. Jeremy wondered if Jean liked them.

 

"Thank you," Jean said quietly. His face was earnest, more open than Jeremy had seen before. "You didn't have to, though."

 

Jeremy felt his still simmering temper shift, trying to break free again. "Yes, I did," he said hoping his annoyance hadn't bled into his voice.

 

Jean looked sceptical, so Jeremy repeated himself. "Yes, I did. What type of captain would I be if I didn't step in to protect someone on my team? I would prefer to be punched than let someone else come to harm when I could have- should have, stopped it."

 

Jean's eyes grew slightly wide, and he opened his mouth, but seemed at a loss for words. He sat there, staring up at Jeremy for another moment, before nodding. "Well, thank you, again. We both know not everyone would have."

 

Jeremy didn't know what to say in the face of that, but Jean didn't seem to be expecting a reply. He stood up and walked toward the bathroom. "Once I wash my hands I'll make lunch, okay?" he called over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow just over a month between updates! Can you tell I'm using this to procrastinate thesis writing?
> 
> Thank you all again for the wonderful comments and all the kudos on the last chapter <3
> 
> Pop accross to my beautiful Beta [Rachel Ren's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars) [tumblr](https://glitter-ature.tumblr.com/%22) and wish her luck with NaNoWriMo!
> 
> Come shout at me on my [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/)! I'm always up for a bit of a chat :)


	13. Flung From the World of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy has a nightmare and Jean learns something new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! This chapter has an extra warning, there are depictions of non-con in this chapter, I don't think they are particularly graphic or intense, but if this is something you're concerned about, skip the block of italicised text. Otherwise, message me on [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/) if you want more info or a copy of this chapter without those bits.

Jeremy thankfully managed to avoid the human population of USC for the rest of Thursday, he didn't have any compulsory classes, and as it was the night before the game, they didn't have training that evening. So, Jeremy gratefully hid from the rest of the world. Even Jean seemed to be trying to stay out of his way, maybe he too felt the awkward tension of not really knowing where to move after the events of the morning. Ordinarily long periods of silence stressed Jeremy, but with his head still throbbing he found himself for once appreciating the quiet nature of his roommate.

 

They spent the day quietly catching up on homework, which Jeremy for the first few hours found relaxing and peaceful. However, as the adrenaline wore off, the enormity of Jeremy's actions began to sink in. In no way would he do things differently, he was much happier with a headache and a bruised and swollen face than for Jean to suffer similarly, but a small but loud part of his brain was screaming about how stupid and careless he had been. He had been so, _so_ , close to accidentally revealing to Jean that they were soulmates.

 

If Avery had gone to punch Jean anywhere but the face, Jean would have ended up with a mark in the identical spot. Or if Jeremy had given into his temper and hit Avery right back, the bruises on his own knuckles would have marked Jean's in turn. Part of Jeremy was almost disappointed, wanted desperately for Jean to know their connection, he felt hopelessly guilty for keeping this from Jean. At the same time, he was terrified that Jean would find out, that it would break the fragile friendship they were starting to form, or that his position of power over Jean as captain and his role as soulmate would blur in Jean's mind.

 

Jeremy knew the dangers of telling Jean, knew that it was better to wait and allow their slowly forming friendship time to strengthen and grow enough that there was some vague hope it would survive when Jeremy finally made the big reveal. On the other hand, Jeremy found himself wondering if it wouldn't just be better to tell Jean now, on his own terms instead of continuously risking Jean discovering it through a punch to the face or an exy injury. Exy was a rough sport; eventually, Jeremy would end up with a bruise he couldn’t hide under his clothes.

 

As the afternoon wore into the evening in relative silence, Jeremy found these thoughts swirling with increasing speed through his head. He wanted to go to the gym for a few hours to try and outrun them. Or better, to go to the court and distract himself with drills. But his face was bruised, and his head hurt, and he wasn't entirely sure Jean would actually let him leave, he'd been sort of weirdly hovering all evening, bringing Jeremy ice packs every half hour and multiple cups of hot chocolate. In most circumstances Jeremy would have appreciated the thought and effort, maybe even tried to interpret what this kindness Jean was directing at him might mean, but honestly, Jeremy just wanted to be left alone to brood. So, after a long shower, Jeremy used the excuse of his headache for an early night.

 

Lying down and turning his back on the room Jeremy blankly stared at the bedroom wall while Jean quietly watched exy games next door, and quietly showered, and quietly turned off the lights and climbed into bed himself. He stared at the wall as Jean lay still and quiet but clearly awake, and he continued to stare at it as Jean's breathing eventually slowed to gentle snoring. Even when sleep finally claimed Jeremy, he couldn't escape his panic and fear.

 

* * *

 

_A seemingly never-ending expanse of skin was laid out below him. More than he’d ever seen. So much he barely knew where to start. He kissed a freckle just under one nipple and was rewarded by Jean’s soft gasp. He ran his hands up Jean’s sides, and the body under him squirmed slightly. Smiling into Jean’s skin he slowly kissed his way down Jean’s torso, stopping to gently run a finger over the soft hairs that lead from Jean’s navel all the way to his red boxer briefs. Jean shivered under him._

_He ran his tongue along the sharp jut of Jean's hip bone. Then gently bit down on the protruding bone just to hear jean gasp again. Jean’s hips moved up infinitesimally, no longer entirely within his control. Jeremy suppressed a grin as he continued his ministrations, delicately tracing the elastic band of Jean’s underwear where it met skin, prolonging the anticipation. Finally, finally, he allowed himself to dip his fingers beneath the waistband, slowly easing the red fabric down to reveal his goal. He looked up now, needing to see Jean’s face, to see that Jean wanted this as much as he did. To know what Jean's face looked like twisted with desire._

_Instead of finding gratification, he found himself recoiling. Jean’s face was turned to the side, scrunched in an expression somewhere between despair and discomfort. It was half buried in the crook of Jean's arm, but there were unquestionably tears clinging at the corners of Jean's scrunched eyes. Everything about Jean's face was a shouted_ NO _._ No, I do not want this.

_As he sat up, he saw Jean’s arms were drawn up over his head and bound. Though Jean now lay there limp, not bothering to struggle, his wrists were clearly bruised and chaffed. When he turned to look around him, he was Jean’s feet were also bound, forcing his body into an 'X'. He pushed himself off Jean and stumbled backwards, falling in his haste._

_Jean sat up looming above him, face still wet with tears but his expression had changed to one of confusion. “Why did you stop?” He just gaped at the beautiful man who now sat above him, unable to process what Jean was asking._

_“Why did you stop?” Jean asked again. “I thought you wanted this?”_

_He shook his head, barely able to form words. “You were… You didn’t… This isn’t what I want,” he finally choked out._

_“But we’re soulmates,” Jean answered as if that explained everything. “I mean look.” He gestured at his chest, and he looked down. Everywhere he had touched Jean was marked on his own body, showing damage that wasn’t visible on Jean’s skin. "We're soulmates, why did you stop?"_

 

* * *

 

Jeremy woke up lying rigid in his bed, covered in a cold sweat. For more than an hour, he lay like that, staring at the ceiling, too sickened to go back to sleep, but too scared of himself to move. He was frozen in horror, so terrified that he convinced himself that by moving he would somehow bring the dream into reality. So Jeremy lay there, almost unblinking, lost in a sea of fear and disgust.

 

His thoughts oscillated wildly from soothing whispers trying to calm him down and reassure him, to bellowed sentiments of hate and loathing. The only really consistent thought was one that ran as an undercurrent to all of these, a repeated mantra of _I can't tell him. I can't tell him. I can't tell him._

 

The only good thing to come out of this nightmare was the reaffirmation that Jeremy needed his relationship with Jean to have found solid ground before confessing that they were soulmates. Jeremy knew that this was in many ways unfair to Jean. However, at the same time, he refused to risk the possibility that Jean would go along with Jeremy's desires because he thought it was something Jeremy wanted or something that he couldn't say no to, either because Jeremy was his captain, or because Jeremy was his soulmate.

 

Eventually, Jeremy calmed down enough allowed his eyes to close, although that did nothing to stop his clamouring thoughts. Jeremy didn't have classes on Friday, so when Jean stirred, far too early he pretended to still be asleep. Listening as Jean watched another exy game as he slowly ate his breakfast, ruffled through papers on his desk and then finally came back into the bedroom to get his stuff for the day before leaving Jeremy in an oppressive silence. He couldn't face him. Surely Jean would take one look at Jeremy and just know the repugnant images his subconscious had conjured.

 

Despite the ringing silence that did nothing to drown out his own mantra of self-depreciation, Jeremy did eventually drift back to sleep, his body so exhausted that not even his mind could keep him awake. It was a dreamless sleep thankfully, and when he awoke, Jeremy felt surprisingly well rested.

 

With the combination of sleep, a shower, breakfast, and good old time and space, Jeremy regained some equilibrium and was able to apply some reason to the situation. He reminded himself that he couldn't control what happened in his dreams and his nightmare last night was an expression of his own anxieties, not a desire to do something awful to another human being. Sure, the nightmare still left a nasty taste in his mouth, but that was honestly good. It was a way for Jeremy to prove to himself that that was not something his waking-self wanted, remembering his horror even in the dream, he realised it wasn't even something his _sleeping_ -self had wanted.

 

Still, he felt dirty, and guilty, and was relieved when Jean sent him a text to let him know Laila was coming over with him after lunch. It would give Jeremy a social buffer while he figured out how to act normal around Jean again.

 

Jeremy was just wondering if he had time for a second shower when he heard the jangle of keys in the door. Despite this small warning he still jumped when the door burst open, and Layla dramatically sashayed in. Upon seeing Jeremy, who was in the process of standing up to greet her, she theatrically threw an arm over her face and pretended to collapse back into Jean, who looked alarmed and entirely unsure of what to do as, unprepared, he fumbled to catch her.

 

"Oh my gooood," Layla moaned. "Your face, what has he done to your beautiful face? The horror! The horror!"

 

Jeremy reached up to gently touch the tender, purpled skin under his eye. He'd almost forgotten about it in the lingering horror of the nightmare from the night before, despite the fact that he'd already been startled when he'd seen his face in the mirror after getting out of the shower. The left side of his face was swollen and bruised from just under his eye all the way down to his jaw, and the gash on his cheekbone just made it look all the worse.

 

Jeremy laughed at his friend's theatrics, hoping it didn't sound as hollow as he felt. "I thought it was an improvement honestly."

 

He couldn't see Jean because Laila had come right up and pulled his head down so she could gently poke and prod and tut over him. But he was reasonably sure he heard Jean mutter "ce n'est pas," in the background. Jeremy's French was still pretty rusty, but even his slow brain managed to translate the simple phrase; ‘it's not’. Jeremy fought to suppress a genuine laugh. It was good to hear Jean feeling comfortable enough to mutter disparagingly in French. He glanced over at Jean—despite Laila still trying to heal his bruised flesh but prodding at it—but Jean was looking away, rifling through his bag for something, unaware he'd been heard.

 

As if suddenly aware of Jeremy's attention, Jean's head jerks up, looking to where Jeremy and Laila are stood. Taking in the scene, he appears to decide Jeremy needs saving from Laila's good intentions. "Laila," he calls. Then again when she doesn't respond, "Laila, stop. You know that's not doing any good."

 

Laila looks over at him and pouts, and again Jeremy finds himself wondering when these two forged such a close bond. For the first time, he also wonders how Laila wheedled her way under all of Jean's prickly defences. Jean never spoke to Jeremy, or Alvarez, so casually. Jean, although seemingly unperturbed by Laila's puppy-dog eyes, nevertheless tries to console her. "Come on, come help me make coffee."

 

"Yeeeessss," Laila exclaims gleefully, completely forgetting her administrations to Jeremy's face. "Caffeeeeeiiiiin."

 

Jean shakes his head, "honestly, you shouldn't be so excited, you already had a latte with lunch."

 

"There's no such thing as too much coffee Jean!" Laila laughs as she follows him into the kitchen.

 

"Actually," Jeremy hears Jean say, his voice slightly muffled as he bustles around the kitchen, "there is, and I've been meaning to suggest that you try and cut down." Jeremy tries to focus on how good it is to hear Jean chatting in such a friendly way to someone so he can ignore the pang of jealousy he feels at Jean's gentle scolding. Jeremy drank far more coffee that Laila and Jean had never tried to dissuade _him_ from the habit. He felt selfish and petty for even thinking this, but unfortunately, that didn't erase the sting. However, Jean bringing him his coffee with a pointed look and saying, "it's only got one sugar, don't complain," did.

 

Laila made herself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch from Jeremy, crossing her legs and wiggling in until it looked like she and the sofa had been lifelong friends. Jean took his place on the armchair, resuming what Jeremy had now dubbed—in his mind at least—the 'regal lounging position.'

 

It was one of the most pleasant afternoons Jeremy had experienced since Jean had moved to USC. He and Jean were figuring things out slowly but surely. Jeremy, for the most part, didn't feel like he was continually walking on egg-shells anymore; although sometimes he felt like he was walking through a mostly cleared mine-field, much more room for error, unfortunately when something went wrong it seemed more inclined to blow up—or punch him—in his face. But, it was unusual for Jeremy to be able to relax and socialise in Jean's presence, Jeremy would socialise at class or with friends but usually when Jean was otherwise occupied, and although Alvarez and Laila often did visit their apartment, Jean usually seemed ambivalent or even ignored their presence. Today was different, although Jean still didn't say much he appeared to be fully engaged in the conversation—even the parts that weren't exy related—and it was, nice, it was really, really nice.

 

Socialisation had always helped Jeremy when he was stressed or upset, despite the fact he tended to withdraw from people when he was like that, and he found himself stepping further away from the dark thoughts that followed from the night before as the conversation progressed. Even as the conversation took a turn from the trivial and inconsequential to the soberer, Jeremy found himself relaxing. It wasn't particularly pleasant to hear Laila talking about her soulmate woes—she was so afraid that Alvarez wouldn't forgive her when they finally managed to speak and equally unsure how she should or event wanted to move forward—Jeremy felt calmer and more content than he had for weeks.

 

"The worst thing is even if we made it work platonically, my family wouldn't understand _anyway_. It's just, I don't know where I stand on the non-platonic front? I can't say I'm exactly opposed? But I'd never considered it before either?" Laila sighed, then plastered on a smile and in a clear attempt to pick up the mood, joked, "besides, if I end up with Ally who would check out boys with you Jer?"

 

Jeremy felt the colour drain from his face as he saw Jean's head flick towards him. "Wait," Jean said, "you're gay?"

 

 _Fuck. Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_. This isn't how Jeremy wanted something like this to go. Jeremy had never made his sexuality a secret during his time at college, but he also hadn't been super open with it, when you're not dating or overtly hitting on anyone most people will assume you're straight, Jeremy rarely went out of his way to correct this. He didn't consider himself closeted though and wasn't mad at Laila for assuming he'd told Jean already. If he hadn't been so scared about scaring Jean off, he probably would have. Really, it was his own stupid fault, but still, _fuck._

 

Laila's eyes widened, and her hands flew up, covering her mouth. "Oh, I'm-" she started what was probably an apology. However, she was interrupted by the front door of the apartment flying open.

 

"Jeremy Knox!" Alvarez exclaimed. "You get punched in the face, and I find out from one of the _cheerleaders_?" Three pairs of shocked eyes turned to her.

 

Alvarez stopped, one hand still on the door, the gleeful grin sliding off her face. "Oh," she said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

 

Jeremy knew how it looked. Laila had her hands over her mouth, eyes horrified, and Jeremy own face was pinched with surprise and guilt. It made it seem to Alvarez like she was an unwanted guest, although whether she assumed they were just feeling guilty for not inviting her, or for if she assumed they'd been talking about her behind her back Jeremy didn't know.

 

"Al-" he started.

 

At the same time Laila squeaked "Ally!" but before either of them could clarify Alvarez cut them off.

 

"No. I see. It's fine," she said, expression hard. Then, turned on her heal and shut the door, none too gently, behind her.

 

Jean flinched slightly at a dull thud that followed her exit. Laila dropped her hands from her mouth and looked down. Jeremy followed her gaze and saw marks blooming on her right knuckles. Laila's eyes filled with tears.

 

Jeremy started when Jean said, softly, "I'm not really good at timing, or talking to people, but this seems like something that could snowball if no one goes and sorts it out."

 

Jeremy thought Jean was talking to him at first and agrees, but as he looks up in preparation to go follow Alvarez, he sees Jean staring intensely at Laila. Following Jean's gaze Jeremy witnesses Laila's jaw clench and hands ball into fists until finally she nods and stands. She's almost at the door when Jean adds, "this might be a good lead into other conversations too if you feel up to it."

 

Laila pauses, hand reaching towards the doorknob, she doesn't turn around, but Jeremy thinks he sees another small nod before she's wrenching the door open and loudly calling down the corridor to Alvarez. Jeremy and Jean sat in silence for a long moment staring at the door after it slammed closed behind her.

 

Jeremy wanted to go and put his ear against the door to see if he could hear anything. Or better yet, to open it a crack in the hopes that his friends had paused in the corridor and he could see that they were alright. Instead, he found himself saying, still staring at the door, "bi actually."

 

Jean turned to him, blinking slowly in confusion. After a beat of silence Jean finally asked, "what?"

 

Jeremy let out a small sigh, trying to calm his nerves as he faced Jean. If Laila had the balls to go and talk to and hopefully apologise to Alvarez, he could do this small thing. If this was it, this was it, but honestly if Jean reacted badly now, at least Jeremy would know what he was facing. He met Jean's bewildered gaze. "I'm bi, not gay."

 

There was a moment of silence, as Jean searched Jeremy's face as if expecting Jeremy to suddenly go 'April fools!' and make out like it was a joke. When Jeremy continued to silently meet Jean's gaze, trying to stop his hands from shaking in his lap, Jean finally asked, "so you like men and women?"

 

Jeremy nodded.

 

Jean nodded in return. "Considering there are no out pro exy players," he began, Jeremy braced for an ignorant lecture on how he should try and stick to women if he valued his career. "Exy is a surprisingly diverse sport," Jean concluded, his tone ponderous.

 

Now it was Jeremy's turn for confusion. "What?"

 

"Well, there's Josten and the monster, and the monster's cousin Hemmick, he won't make it to pro though, then there's Alvarez, maybe even Laila, you. Considering the size of Kevin's exy crush on you maybe him too, but he'd never admit it, too worried about what people think. Overall, it's just seems very... gay," Jean concluded.

 

There was a pause as Jeremy processed, this was not a response he'd had before nor one he expected. Jean apparently took the silence the wrong way as his eyes widened and he once again shrunk in on himself, although, for once, he didn't drop his gaze. "Sorry! I-I mean," he stuttered. "Not in a bad way! I don't mean to imply..." he trailed off apparently unsure of what he could have been implying.

 

Jeremy laughed, this was a more normal response, in all honesty. "No, no, it's fine. I was just thinking, you said absolutely nothing offensive," he waved a hand to placate. Jean flinched back from the motion slightly, Jeremy's bubble of amusement burst.

 

Jean must have seen Jeremy's smile drop slightly. "Sorry," he said again. "I know you're not," he gestured to Jeremy's hands where they now rested safely in his lap, clasped together to remind him not to make wild gestures. "It's just habit. Not you." The admission was awkward and stilted and clearly something Jean didn't want to dwell on or explain, but it soothed some of Jeremy's ragged edges.

 

"Yeah, I understand, I just get frustrated that I'm always flailing around and startling people." He made sure to frame it in a way that didn't place his guilt solely on Jean's shoulders, anyway it was true, on more than one occasion he'd actually hit strangers with his wayward limbs.

 

Jean, obviously wanting to move on, glanced back to the door. "I wonder how it's going."

 

"I want to go out and try and spy on them," Jeremy admitted as he too turned his gaze to the entrance of their apartment. “But one of them would probably give me a second black eye.”

 

“I hope they sort it out, but this better not mess up today’s game.”

 

“Oh fuck, I was going to ask Laila if I could borrow some makeup for the eye.”

 

“Jeremy, you play exy, they’ve seen worse,” Jean told him dryly. Jeremy laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience with this super slow update! Since my last update I finished uni, celebrated the silly season with way too much enthusiasm and moved states! So that's all been pretty crazy and busy (pro tip: don't move during Christmas time). Thank you all for the messages, comments and kudos, they're amazing and mean so much to me.
> 
> If you spot a typo or something please let me know, my beta's been struggling with her health and wasn't able to proof this chapter for me. But, good news! She's been working on a MASSIVE Reylo fic, so if that's your cup of tea you should go check it out at [Rachel Ren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Ren/pseuds/ALoveToIgniteTheStars) if not, go send her some love on her [tumblr](https://glitter-ature.tumblr.com/%22) cos she's wonderful and deserves it.
> 
> While you're at it feel free to pop into my [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/) and say hello!


	14. The Lights in the Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy is confused and Jean leaves his thoughts unspoken

Jeremy didn't see Laila or Alvarez until just before he took his starting position on the Court that evening. The girls hadn't reappeared after their dramatic exit from his dorm room that afternoon, and as the day wore on, with no word from either of them, his anxiety steadily increased. By the time he arrived at the Trojan's court, he was looking around for the pair so regularly that Jean—who was always waspish before a game—snapped at him to stop impersonating a meerkat.

 

They missed Rheman's and then Jeremy's pep talks. In fact, Jeremy halfway through telling his two backups the game plan when the two rushed in, flushed and out of breath, still adjusting their uniforms. Jeremy didn't even have the chance to ask them where they'd been before the whistle blew, he apologised to the backups, jerked his head sharply at Alvarez to indicate she was on before walking out onto the court.

 

This wasn't the start Jeremy wanted to a game. He was full of nerves, he hadn't been able to find out what how Alvarez and Laila had gone, he was still worried that Jean would have a belated freak out over the revelation that Jeremy was bi, and to top it all off, he was still haunted by ugly images from his nightmare.

 

To make everything worse, this was the first game the Trojan's were playing with a significantly reduced team. The Beavers were a middling team, but small, which meant that all on-duty Trojan's tonight would be playing the equivalent of a full half. It was either going to demonstrate the Trojan's strength as players. Or, as Jeremy feared, it would show how flawed his scheme actually was. If they played like they had last week, it was assured that they would lose.

 

Blessedly, his worries were for naught. The team, it seemed, had finally found its footing. Gone was the fumbling of previous weeks, the moments of hesitation trying to assess who was calling for the ball and how fast they could run, it looked like fitness was also up. To be fair, due to size limitations most of the team consisted of older members, but still, Jeremy felt pride—and relief—seeing how smoothly the Trojan's operated tonight.

 

However, not all of their success could be attributed to the team as a whole. Jeremy was well aware that he had some star players, as the Beavers learnt in the final ten minutes of the first half. It was the first time that game that Jean and Alvarez had been on at the same time. Watching them from his end of the court Jeremy wondered if the pair had been practising together in private. In stark contrast to the performance of Jean and Avery last week, Jean and Alvarez were a well-oiled machine. So, sharply aware of the other's capabilities, they seemed to have developed telekinesis. Indeed, they could predict exactly where the other needed them to be. In the span of ten minutes, they took the Trojans lead from 3-2 to 6-3.

 

The Beavers luck didn't improve after halftime, which saw Laila join Jean and Alvarez in the goal square. A lot of people limit their view of the backline to the sole job of defence, stopping the ball from getting to the goal square. Jeremy knew that wasn't true, and it was made blatantly clear to anyone watching in the first 15 minutes of the second half. Not only was the Trojan goal square on complete lockdown, but the trio shaped the game. Dictating, from the far end of the court, who got the ball, and when. Jean would get the ball off the opposition, would throw it to Laila who would swap play to the other side of the court, sending the ball flying to Alvarez who had already been sprinting to where she needed to be before the ball had even left Laila's racket.

 

It was a type of seamless play that teams trained for a lifetime to try and achieve, but couldn't be taught. It was a natural dynamic that Laila and Alvarez had possessed even from the early days as Trojans but was dramatically enhanced by Jean's sudden presence. Jeremy had seen this flawless connection once before when playing the Foxes last year when Kevin, Neil and Andrew had formed what turned out to be an unbeatable trio. Today, Jean, Laila and Alvarez left the Beavers utterly blown away, and Jeremy with no room for thought as he desperately tried to keep up, required as he was to physically score the goals the other three set up. In that fifteen minutes, the Trojans cemented their win, stretching their lead to a logic-defying 10-3.

 

Alvarez was swapped out at the fifteen-minute mark, and the spell was broken. On top of this, the Trojan's as a whole, started to flag, unused to playing such long individual games. Despite this, the final score was an impressive 11-6.

 

As the final buzzer rang, Jeremy whooped, pulling George—the closest teammate to him at the time—into a one-armed hug. He looked around saw Jean and grinned raising a stick, Jean nodded, then turned to look at something over Jeremy's shoulder. Following Jean's gaze, Jeremy observed as Alvarez charged back onto the court—her helmet discarded on the bench so Jeremy could see the broad grin on her face—toward Laila who loped out of the goal to meet her. They met in the middle, high-fiving and Laila slung her arm around Alvarez in celebration. The pair lacked their usual ease, but Laila's arm remained draped over Alvarez as they made their way off the court. Jeremy's relief was so profound he found himself picking up Cynthia as she came to celebrate with him and spinning her around above his head in celebration.

 

After placing Cynthia—still giggling—back onto the ground, looked up to see Jean looking towards him. Jeremy gave him an appreciative nod. Jean in response gave him a look that Jeremy couldn't quite decipher—it wasn't pleased, but it wasn't the usual look Jean sent Jeremy's way when he thought Jeremy was fucking up his captaincy. Maybe he was judging Jeremy for being an overly enthusiastic idiot in front of hundreds of people?

 

Trying to tamp down on some of his joyous energy Jeremy shook hands with the Beaver's captain, who had always been a good sport and congratulated Jeremy on the "spectacular win." As he made his way off court Jean fell into step beside him.

 

"Good game," Jeremy said, grinning at Jean as he approached.

 

Jean nodded, turning towards the gate. "We held up better than I expected," he acknowledged. "We were lucky to be versing the Beavers though."

 

Jean's less than glowing review probably should have dampened Jeremy's mood, but they'd won, more than convincingly, and in all honesty, that was almost high praise by Jean's standards. "We'll get there," Jeremy said confidently. "The Foxes won't know what hit them come finals."

 

Jean inexplicably looked slightly pensive at Jeremy's words but nodded.

 

"Jeremy! Jean!" Laila called. "The gods of exy! Get over here!"

 

Jeremy raised an eyebrow and shared a look of perplexed look with Jean. Jean mouthed 'god's of exy' incredulously, before shaking his head as if he should know to expect these antics. Jeremy supposed he also shouldn't be surprised, Laila had always liked to bestow ridiculous nicknames, but he hadn't heard any since before summer break.

 

Joining the two delirious girls, still giggling at Laila's nickname. Jeremy felt something inside him expand in happiness to see his friends laughing together again. He was so buoyed he almost felt like he could play another Exy game, as long as the full team were involved this time.

 

Regaining some composure, Alvarez finally turned away from Laila, still grinning gleefully. "That was a game," she stated.

 

Jean nodded in a lackadaisical way that made Jeremy wonder if he was simply agreeing that, yes indeed, they had just played a game of Exy. He giggled internally, before turning to Laila. "Gods of Exy?"

 

"Did you see yourselves during the middle of that game?" Laila gushed. "I thought I was going to die, front row seats to some of the best exy I've ever seen."

 

"What about me? I'm no god," Alvarez pouted.

 

"Of course not, you're a goddess," Laila laughed, touching Alvarez's arm reassuringly.

 

"Oh, fuck off," Alvarez laughed, lightly shoving Laila's shoulder gently.

 

Jeremy noticed her exercise-flushed cheeks had turned a slightly darker shade of red. He tried to figure out where the girls had fallen after their talk this afternoon. Friends? Something more? This conversation would have seemed utterly normal—well normal for them at least—before summer break, but with everything he knew now, he couldn't help trying to read further into it. On top of that, it was hard to believe the girls had so seamlessly fallen into old routines after two months of avoiding each other and stilted, almost hostile exchanges. Looking them over, he noticed that both had slightly red and puffy eyes as if they'd been crying earlier, so perhaps the transition had been harder than they were currently letting on.

 

"You were also instrumental Laila," Jean said with a small smile.

 

"Yeah," Alvarez piped up. "You were the one who opened up those plays."

 

Laila's smile became smug. "I am Laila! Goddess of the goals!" She cried, striking some ridiculous pose with both arms pointing diagonally up and to the right, one bent, so it was in line with the other. At that, Jeremy found himself giggling out loud.

 

"Alright, alright," Rheman said from behind them, causing Jean to flinch violently, although he tried to make it look as if he'd jumped in surprise. Jeremy tried not to glare at his coach as he turned around. "Let's not get too carried away," he said, despite the fact he was grinning ear to ear.

 

Rheman surveyed the four. "You look much more like a group of miscreant teens than any gods I've seen," he said, grin fading into a slight frown. His eyes swept over the group, pausing on Jeremy's black eye, before dropping to the identical bruises on Alvarez's and Laila's now un-gloved hands, and flicking a barely noticeable glance at the pairs slightly puffy faces. He apparently was less concerned by Jean, who, in Jeremy's opinion, looked far too good for someone who'd just played a long game of exy. Jean's dark hair was pulled back under a bandana, but a few locks escaped, and they clung to his sweat-dampened face. The only flaws Jeremy could see were the dark rings under Jean's eyes, strongly suggested he needed more sleep in his life.

 

"You've seen a god?" Laila asked, as Jeremy dragged his gaze away from Jean before someone noticed.

 

"Once," Rhemen said, surprising them. "On a dark road in the Sonoran Desert." He paused for a moment staring into the distance, caught up in a memory, as the young adults in front of him shuffled uncomfortably, not really sure what to say to a confession like that. "But," he eventually went on, "that's a story for another day. Right now, we have the press clamouring for interviews."

 

He scanned the group again. "Alvarez, Laila, keep your gloves on and head to the change rooms, the last thing I need is someone seeing those knuckles and Jeremy's face and thinking they've put two and two together."

 

The pair nodded, pulling on gloves and heading off with a grin in Jean and Jeremy's direction. Rheman watched them go for a second before turning back to look at Jean. "Look I'm not going to make you, but how do you feel about fronting up to the press?"

 

Jeremy felt his lips draw into a line. He knew Jean was media trained, and, off a good game, he knew it was one of the best times. Plus, the longer they waited after Jean's move, the more the reporters would try to sniff him out. Still, Jeremy felt a bit like it was throwing Jean to the wolves, and he couldn't help but give Rheman a disapproving look.

 

Jean, for his part, didn't seem to harbour the same reservations. At Rheman's question, he nodded and replied, "that's fine." Looking entirely unconcerned.

 

Rheman nodded decisively. "Okay then boys, you're up." They turned to go, Jeremy swallowing his protests.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy always found walking into the press room slightly overwhelming. Despite spending several hours surrounded by screaming fans, the clamour of nosy reporters was a significantly more aggressive noise, and then there were the bright flashes as the photographers sprang to action as soon as they walked into the room. Where exy crowds made him feel strong, the throng of media made him feel small and weak.

 

Tonight, was particularly bad, Jeremy walked in first and was met by the standard din of chatter and bustle, but when the reporters caught sight of Jean walking in behind him, there was immediate uproar. Questions were thrown before they even had time to find their seats and Jeremy was genuinely concerned the photographers may have done permanent damage to his eyesight with their unrelenting flashes.

 

Jeremy could only catch snatches of questions in the chaos. "Jean, how is it to be-" "-better colour?" "-you found your time-" "-Trojans-" "-recovered from-" "Jean-" "-Moreau?"

 

Finally making it to the small island of calm that was the interview table, Jeremy glanced at Jean as he sat. Jean expression was untroubled—in fact, if Jean didn't know better he would say Jean looked bored—but Jeremy noticed how his hands fidgeted anxiously where they lay behind the table and out of sight of reporters.

 

Taking the lead, and hopefully some of the attention off Jean, Jeremy leant into the mic in front of him, making sure his best boy-next-door grin was firmly in place. "Alright, alright, folks," he said, pausing to allow the room a few moments to settle. "I know we're all very excited to see the Trojan's newest star defender, but please let's try and keep some order."

 

The reporters settled. "Thank you," Jeremy acknowledged. "Now, questions?"

 

Almost every reporter in the room put their hands up. Jeremy scanned the room and picked a woman with short cropped blonde hair, that he remembered for a few insightful, play focused questions in the past. He gestured to her.

 

"The Trojan's looked off to a rocky start last week but seemed to have settled on the court tonight. Does that have anything to do with the fact Avery Emerson wasn't on the court? And, this one’s for Jean, we've seen two very different games with you so far, are you struggling to integrate with some of the Trojan's play styles?"

 

Internally Jeremy winced. Maybe insightful questioning wasn't where he wanted this to go after all. "I think our performance last week was a strong indicator of a team finding its footing early in the year. We've learned some from that and are still experimenting to find the best on court dynamics." He decided it was best not to acknowledge Avery's absence.

 

Jean quickly jumped in, diverting attention from Jeremy's careful answer. "Fitting into any new team is a process, but the Trojan's have been more than welcoming, and I'm happy to put in the work until we all get to where we want to be."

 

The reporter didn't look satisfied with either answer, but Jean was already gesturing to another eager face in the crowd.

 

"So, Jean, how does it feel to be out of black? I know your captain was certainly eager to get you into gold and red at the end of last year."

 

"The Ravens were a solid team," Jean acknowledged, and Jeremy tried not to visibly bristle. "But it was time to part ways, and I'm grateful Jeremy, and the Trojan's, were willing to take me."

 

Jeremy's smile broadened, and he only just avoided saying something ridiculously sappy back, reminding himself this was Jean's media training speaking, not him. He pointed at another reporter.

 

"Jeremy, it was a great game," the man started, as if talking to a close friend—Jeremy found it slightly creepy. "But the stand out was really the end of the first half. Can you talk us through a bit of what was going on there? Is that an outcome you had been working towards?"

 

"As a team, our goal is the performance you saw in the last part of the first half. We train and run drills, and dissect plays, so we understand not only how we're expected to play on the field but also to understand how our teammates will be playing. As I'm sure you'll all agree, some players just gel better than others, and I think what you saw today was personalities and training combining into that blinding display from Moreau, Delmont and Alvarez. So yes, you probably will see that combo again, particularly because there are only so many variations of a team you can play, but I think our goal is to try and drag the rest of us up to that level, or as close to it as we can manage. I'm certainly feeling the pressure to up my game." From the corner of his eye he saw Jean briefly glance at him.

 

"Jean, that's high praise from your Captain, how do you feel the team are performing?" the same slightly smarmy reporter snuck in a third question.

 

"I mean the results speak for themselves, don't they?"

 

"Do you think the policy to match the Trojan's bench to the opposing teams is proving a hindrance, particularly given the semi-final knockout last year?" Another reporter chimed in unbidden.

 

Jean frowned slightly, "again it's hard to argue with the results of tonight's match. Clearly, the Trojan's are able to keep pace with these games. I think Kevin, Josten, and the rest of the Foxes, have a bit of a surprise waiting for them if they're expecting to beat us again this year."

 

"So, you think the Foxes success last year wasn't a once off?" Another reporter jumped in.

 

"They might not have a grudge match driving them, but the Foxes have a solid team right now, and a strong talent pool in some of the younger players that will be around in collegiate exy for a few more years yet."

 

"Okay, I think we have time for one more question," Jeremy said, not wanting to follow this line of questioning until they slipped and accidentally started a feud with the Foxes, he'd seen how that had gone for the Ravens and didn't want any of the stress it might entail. He gestured to a brunette in the front row.

 

"Knox," she smiled. "Sorry, but I have to ask, what happened to your face?"

 

Jeremy was expected this and put on his best sheepish laugh. "Oh? You think this is bad? You should have seen the ball that hit me, I showed it." The reporters laughed, just had he'd hoped they would

 

"And this kids," Jean said dryly next to him. "Is the exact reason you wear a helmet until you're _off_ the court."

 

And with that, it was over, they stood up and left while the press were still tittering at Jeremy's 'misfortune.'

 

Laila and Alvarez were hovering in front of the change rooms when the boys arrived. Jeremy noticed they were both keeping their hands in their pockets, which he found vaguely amusing.

 

"Hey," Laila smiled. "Just wanted to let you know we were heading back to the dorms."

 

"No drinks?" Jeremy asked, vaguely surprised.

 

"Nah, we're too tired, I think the rest of the team are heading to Novo's though," Alvarez explained.

 

Jeremy nodded. "I think I'll give that a miss. The extra court time has really wiped me out," he lied. "Unless you want to go Jean?"

 

Jean shook his head.

 

Laila smiled. "Alright, well we're off, see you both tomorrow."

 

* * *

 

The change rooms were empty when Jeremy got out of the shower, but Jean had waited outside, lounging against the wall next to the door. He didn't acknowledge Jeremy as he kicked off and walked towards the exit. Jeremy was becoming progressively more used to Jean's anti-social quirks and shook his head in amusement before jogging off to catch up to Jean's fast pace.

 

Jeremy had been hoping to dissect the game a bit, one of the easiest ways to draw Jean into conversation, but Jean had a distant look on his face that told Jeremy he was mulling something over. Instead of interrupting Jeremy pulled his phone out of his back and sent Alvarez a quick text.

 

_So wats the deal???_

 

**Alvarez 21:24**

**Lol. Nosy.**

 

 _Sry i care_ he replied rolling his eyes.

 

**Alvarez 21:25**

**I forgive you.**

 

Jeremy wasn't going to press it further if she didn't want to talk but his screen lit up again.

 

**Alvarez 21:27**

**She apologised for being a colossal homophobic ass, I apologised for pushing things. We cried. It was all disgustingly mushy and embarrassing. So we're back to being friends I guess?**

 

_U guess? U ddnt tlk bout it?_

 

**Alvarez 21:30**

**Look, I'm happy to have a friend back. I didn't want to push my luck. We'll figure it out as we go. I'm happy though, so you be happy too ok?**

 

_lol nw im happy ur both happy :)_

 

**Alvarez 21:31**

**Good. And thanks <3**

 

_Not sure if i helped but ur welcome <3_

 

Jeremy smiled down at his phone. Then stepped off the path accidentally because he wasn't looking where he was going and probably would have fallen if Jean hadn't reached out and grabbed him by the back of his shirt.

 

"How someone so good at exy is such a walking disaster off the court I do not know," Jean said sounding irritated.

 

"I'm useless I know," Jeremy replied mournfully. "Imagine how good at exy I could be if I had proper hand-eye coordination though."

 

"I can honestly say your exy skills do not need improving. Your ability to walk in a straight line, however..."

 

Jeremy laughed. "I don't know about that, I'm definitely feeling the need to brush up a bit after watching you three absolutely decimate the Beavers tonight."

 

Jean frowned at him in confusion. Then shook his head an looked away. Jeremy felt his insides shrivel, he wasn't even sure what he'd said to make Jean withdraw on himself again.

 

Their apartment block was bathing them in warm light when Jean paused. Jeremy stopped next to him, looking across in askance. Jean turned to face him. Jeremy was surprised to see a look of frustration on Jean's face. Really, what had he done? _Idiot._

 

"You are not what I expected," Jean snapped.

 

Jeremy stared at him, bewildered. "I'm, sorry?" he questioned. 

 

"See! That's what I mean! Why are you apologising?"

 

"I'm really not following," Jeremy admitted, feeling pained.

 

Jean made a noise. "Never mind," he said, throwing up his hands in exasperation and stomping into the dormitory. Jeremy followed despondently in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many greetings to my favourite readers <3 I'm finally settling into my new routine so hopefully I get to writing a bit more regularly, particularly now it's autumn, the perfect time to write, snuggled on my couch with a warm cup of tea :D
> 
> Thank you for all your kind words as always <3 
> 
> I'm always happy for a chat on my [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/) if you've got the time :)


	15. Turning Dreams To Ash And Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy has a bad weekend and Jean skips training

Monday came around as a relief for Jeremy, bringing a much-needed excuse for him to find some space from Jean. Jeremy's weekend had been miserable, as Jean's mood from Friday, stretched on. Jean often fell into angry, sullen pits, they were usually short-lived, at least in the extremes—Jeremy supposed Jean could often be described as mildly angry or sullen. However, Jean's storm clouds continued to darken the apartment in the following days, and Jeremy quickly found himself counting down to the end of the weekend and a reprieve from Jean's mood.

 

On Friday, Jeremy had dejectedly followed behind as Jean stormed off into the apartment building ahead of him. Jean made it to the lift before him and didn't bother holding the doors, so Jeremy took the stairs. When he reached the door, he had to stop and fish out his keys from his bag, because Jean had locked the door behind him. Jeremy had walked in to find Jean watching the Foxes' game at a volume that made it clear he wasn't interested in conversation. Jeremy went to bed earlier than he usually would, he was drained from the week and emotionally flat after a day of extremes.

 

On Saturday, Jean put his headphones in and worked his way through what must have been all his assignments, judging by the size of the pile and amount of time it took. For almost the whole day he sat at his desk facing the wall, shoulders hunched and stiff. Jeremy tried to get his attention a few times but was either ignored or told Jean was busy and didn't have the time. Jeremy caught a glimpse of one of the assignments Jean was working on, the due date at the top was almost a month out.

 

Jeremy tried to parse out what he was feeling, knowing Jean was avoiding him. It wasn't the clawing self-hatred or the confused guilt he often felt when he'd done something that made Jean uncomfortable. It wasn't really an emotion at all. It was more of a pang, right in the centre of his chest. He wasn't sure why Jean was treating him like this all of a sudden. It was almost reminiscent of their early days, where Jean had treated Jeremy as a threat, or a trap, but it felt worse now than it had back then.

 

Jean cut himself off from Jeremy for the rest of the weekend, becoming an angry, quiet, island of isolation. While Jeremy tried to bridge the gap with mugs of hot chocolate, Jean would make meals just large enough for one and would leave the drinks to go cold. Jeremy didn't have the stomach to finish his own after that. When Jeremy tried to put on a game of exy to lure Jean into a conversation, Jean would turn the music in his headphones so loud that Jeremy could hear the steady beats. Jeremy found himself staring blankly at the screen trying to work out why Jean was so mad at him instead of watching the game.

 

While Jeremy felt himself slowly unravelling at the seams, Jean himself became seemed to become more tightly wound with each passing hour. By Sunday evening Jeremy could see the cords of tension in Jean's neck. He would often glance over at Jeremy, who was sitting on the couch dejectedly watching exy reruns, then glance away, shoulders rigid. He would flinch at even the smallest move from Jeremy, even though he was across the room, this would often be followed by a frustrated huff. Although none of these actions were unusual for Jean, without any seeming trigger, they were just a few more items to add to this list of Jeremy's bizarre and shitty weekend.

 

Despite Jeremy's initial relief at the arrival of Monday, and classes and training, Monday morning was somehow worse. After getting back from a very long, very early workout, Jeremy found Jean already awake and eating breakfast in front of one of the exy reruns Jeremy had tried to get him to watch on Saturday. Trying not to feel as annoyed as he was, Jeremy drifted to the bedroom muttering something vague about needing a shower—where he planned to spend a bit of time wallowing in self-pity away from Jean's cold stare—he returned to find the bathroom door shut and Jean nowhere in sight. When he finally exited the bathroom, Jean glanced over at Jeremy, who was hovering next to the couch, waiting for his turn.

 

"The water went cold," Jean told him. "Sorry," he added as if it were an afterthought. He definitely didn't sound apologetic.

 

Jeremy stifled the dejected sigh that bubbled up in his chest and trudged into the bathroom, there wasn't enough time for him to allow the water to warm up before training. At least they lived in California instead of one of the colder states. It was a depressing shower, but Jeremy wondered if he perhaps did deserve it, he'd clearly—albeit unwittingly—upset Jean greatly, and surely a more self-aware person than he would have been able to puzzle out what he'd done and offer a meaningful apology, Jeremy thought moodily.

 

Jean was dressed and had his bag over his shoulder when Jeremy exited the bathroom. "Give me two minutes, and I'll walk to the court with you!" Jeremy called over his shoulder as he headed to the bedroom. Jean, in reply, muttered something in hostile French—it was fast and quiet, and Jeremy's French was still rudimentary, but from what he could make out it was less than flattering. Jeremy didn't stop but continued into the bedroom, from where he heard the sound of the front door slamming, poking his head out found Jean had decided to leave without him.

 

"Alrighty then, guess I'm walking to the court by myself then," Jeremy said to the closed door, feeling a stab of annoyance shoot through him. He knew Jean had been through hell and back, and every day Jean struggled through a world he wasn't familiar with, that he didn't really understand and that a lot of the time he feared, but fuck he could be an absolute _dick_ sometimes. The fact that Jeremy didn't know what he'd done, and therefore didn't understand why Jean was acting so aggressively towards him made Jean's behaviour all the more frustrating.

 

Fortunately, practice went smoothly. Jean put in the bare minimum in terms of effort, but the bare minimum was enough that Jeremy could keep the whole show on the road. It gave Jeremy a frayed rope of normalcy to cling to. At least Alvarez and Laila were much closer to how they were before all their worlds had been turned upside down, laughing and joking with each other throughout practice. When he noticed Jean hanging back, or leaving others to clean up after a drill, Jeremy would look over at them, and allow himself a moment of peace, basking in their own shared delight.

 

There was a bit of excitement at the end of practice when Rheman announced that the Trojan's would be hosting the fall banquet this year. Jeremy felt a pang of anxiety at the thought of having Ravens invading his home and looked over to see how Jean was coping with the news, only to find Jean already leaving the court as if it were nothing to him at all. Jean was a far better actor than Jeremy had ever been and Jeremy felt another wave of frustration. He wished, just once, Jean would let him in, let him help before it came to a point where all Jeremy could do was to help pick up the pieces.

 

Jeremy bit the inside of his lip. Hard. When had he become so bitter and resentful? It wasn't Jean's fault that he had trouble expressing himself or letting people in. Jeremy shouldn't expect Jean to trust him, or rely on him. It was Jeremy who hadn't told Jean they were soulmates. He couldn't expect Jean to act on information he didn't have.

 

Again Jeremy's gut twisted guiltily at the thought of his and Jean's soulmate status. Should he have told Jean at the beginning? His guilt only intensified as he wondered if it would have made things easier, if Jean would trust him more now if he knew, he shouldn't be thinking of this knowledge as something to leverage for _convenience_. It was something that was important, and delicate, and needed to be approached at the right time, in the right way, not because he'd become frustrated that someone who had been physically and emotionally abused for _years_ found it difficult to trust him.

* * *

Jeremy struggled to pay attention in his classes. Over the weekend Jeremy had been able to keep anxieties in check. He found it much easier to deal with knowing someone was angry at him than wondering if someone was. Also, he struggled less with spiralling thoughts when he was able to see how disgruntled someone was. His brain may start a spiral of _he loathes me, he's going to leave, I deserve it_ but Jeremy could look over and see, although Jean was facing away, purposefully ignoring Jeremy, he was sat doing homework, not making plans for a sudden disappearance. Without Jean's presence, Jeremy's mind swirled with hundreds of unwanted possible scenarios. They all ended with Jeremy in an empty apartment, Jean _gone_. Jeremy found himself having to fight the urge to go and find Jean in whatever class he was in and beg him to not leave, to beg for forgiveness for whatever it was he'd done. Another part of Jeremy's brain scolded him at the same time, that was what had started it all, wasn't it? A confused apology stuttered out into the dark as they walked home on Friday night?

 

He tried to distract himself by once again running over that conversation in his head, trying to place exactly what had gone so wrong and, more importantly, why. It worked for a while, but eventually that brought him back to the same place as now, feeling like a useless _idiot_ , with no real idea of what to do to fix whatever his mistake was, and a growing fear that Jean had reached the end of his patience with Jeremy's incompetencies. Jeremy was once again gripped with the urge to go and find Jean but convinced himself to sit out his final class of the day with the rationale that he would be able to see Jean at training, and he could try sort this all out after that.

 

As he walked out of class, Jeremy's phone buzzed. Jean had texted him. Jeremy felt his stomach knot. With hands shaking so hard he struggled to swipe the unlock pattern, Jeremy opened the text.

 

**Jean 5:55pm**

**I'm not going to training tonight. I don't feel like it.**

 

"Fuck." A few of the students walking passed him looked around in surprise.

 

Jeremy's mind was a panicked whirl of obscenities and dread. How could he be so fucking stupid? How had it let the situation spirally so wholly out of his control? What had he _done_? How could he fix it?

 

He shot off a quick text to Alvarez.

 

_Nt comin 2 training. J n I hv food poisoning_

 

He resisted the urge to outright sprint across campus, keeping it to a more seemly jog. Jeremy did not, however, have the patience to wait for the lift, and skipped it in favour of jogging up the stairs. So, he was out of breath and sweaty when he burst through the front door.

 

As the door banged against the wall, Jean jumped about a foot in the air, and Jeremy immediately regretted his dramatic entrance. He seemed to have been walking toward his desk, and now stood, half turned to face Jeremy. His body was stiff and hands clenched, and he looked half resigned and half ready to try and run, although where, Jeremy didn't know, as he was blocking the only viable exit. Jeremy slowly edged into the room and towards the kitchen in an attempt to make Jean feel less trapped.

 

Now in front of Jean, able to see the dark rings under his eyes, the taut lines of his face, Jeremy found his words dry up. His half-concocted apologies, hurt accusations, demands for answers, none of them fit, none of them would reach the man in front of Jeremy, curled in on himself in fear and distrust, twisted further by anger and resentment. Laying Jeremy's grievances at his feet would be like trying to whisper to someone in a hurricane—unrealistic and wildly inconsiderate.

 

"Are you okay?" Was the question Jeremy finally settled on. Crude and straightforward, but a starting point that allowed Jean to lead the conversation, if he wanted to.

 

Jean snorted. "I'm fine, I said I just wasn't in the mood. I didn't expect you to come to deal with me until after training, I was just startled." It was a rambling reply, and Jeremy gained the impression that Jean had rehearsed it somehow, but Jeremy's sudden appearance had put him off balance, and it hadn't quite come out the way Jean had intended it to.

 

Jean's had derailed Jeremy somewhat as well. "No that's not what I meant, well it is what I meant, but, wait what do you mean _deal with_ , no wait, no, what I meant was more in the long run," Jeremy took a breath trying to realign his thoughts. "You seem to have had a tough weekend, and I just wanted to know if you were okay, or if there's anything I can do to help. And also, I'm not entirely sure how but I think I have contributed to whatever has been bothering you, and I just wanted to apologise and let you know that you can talk to me if I upset you, cos I know I can be a bit oblivious at times too."

 

As far as apologies go Jeremy was well aware his was far from the best, particularly combined with the incoherent waffle that had preceded it. However, he hadn't thought it was so bad that Jean would completely blow up in anger either. Jean made a high pitched incredulous sound in the back of his throat and threw up his hands. His face that had previously been tight with nerves contorted into something angry, turning a blotchy red. He took a step towards Jeremy.

 

"What the fuck do you mean you're sorry. Why the fuck can't you just be honest for once?"

 

"What?" Be honest? Was this about their marks? Had Jean figured it out?

 

"You're mad. You must be mad. I've been nothing but awful and troublesome all weekend. I skipped _training_. I'm sick of you putting on this happy smiling face. I _know_ you're putting it on. I see what a fucking mess you are here, and I see you walk onto the court, or out to a class, smile plastered on your face and you're Captain Jeremy Knox, and then you get back here, and no one knows that you can't sleep, and blame yourself for fucking everything. I know you can act and I know you're mad so why don't you just stop pretending? I don't want to sit here waiting for you to blow up, just do it!" Jean shouted, hands balled into fists, his whole body trembling.

 

Jeremy stood in shock. "I'm sorry," he started.

 

It was definitely the wrong thing to say because Jean threw his hands up in frustration. "God! No! Stop apologising. Be mad! Stop covering it up!" He started towards Jeremy and Jeremy took a step back, wholly unsure of the situation, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. Jean kept coming though, and Jeremy quickly found himself backed up against the kitchen counter. Jean seemed to be falling apart in front of him, his face was flushed and contorted, his eyes wide and manic. He got right up in Jeremy's face. "Don't you see it's so much worse waiting for it, just get mad and get it over with _damn it_ ," Jean's voice broke on the last word, turning it into more of a desperate plea than angry tirade.

 

"Jean," Jeremy started cautiously. "I can't get mad with you because I'm not mad, I honestly haven't been faking it, I have genuinely not been angry."

 

Jean made a weak noise in the back of his throat. "No, get mad, you have to get mad." He was meeting Jeremy's eyes. "I've done everything wrong all weekend. Literally everything. You have to be mad." He grabbed the front of Jeremy's shirt and shook him. "You have to be angry. You have to be. This can't possibly be how the world works." Jeremy feels something in his chest wrench at Jean's words, as he finally starts understanding where this outburst is coming from. It must be an awful thing indeed, to be faced suddenly with how life could have been.

 

Jean's expression had turned from furious, to desperate, to something sad and broken. He shook Jeremy again, although with significantly less force than before, with a final plea of "be angry," and then sort of collapses in on himself.

 

His hands were still fisted in Jeremy's shirt, but Jean lets out a sob, and his knees seem to buckle under him. Jeremy, without thought, reached out to catch him, but he's slightly too slow, and the angle is awkward, so all he really managed to do is slow Jean's decent by sinking to the ground with him. The pair ended up kneeling together on the ground, the result was a strange tangle of bodies, both kneeling, Jean's legs between Jeremy's, Jeremy's arms at odd angles from trying to catch Jean without invading his personal space. Jean didn't try to pull away or disentangle himself as Jeremy had expected. Instead, still sobbing, he curled in on himself further, head resting on near his hands, still twined in Jeremy's shirt.

 

Jeremy instinctively reached up, intending on wrapping his arms around Jean. He hesitated, awkwardly hovering inches from Jean, unsure if his attempt to comfort would merely make the situation worse. However, Jean was leaning into Jeremy's body, not pulling away, Jeremy wondered if maybe this was a rare occasion where what Jean needed was actually physical comfort instead of space. So, as Jean continued to weep into his chest, Jeremy slowly brought his hands around to rest on Jean's back, gently pulling him into a hug.

 

Jean seemed to relax into the touch, although crying didn't stop. He uttered something in between sobs, Jeremy thought it might have been some sort of an apology, but really it could have been anything. Jeremy didn't know how to respond, so he just brought one of his hands up to gently pat the back of Jean's head.

 

Trying to hold Jean together as he fell apart, Jeremy felt a tear roll down his own cheek, and he allowed himself a single selfish moment to be consumed by his own grief. He rarely let himself to dwell on the what-ifs, finding them overly damaging in the long run, but closing his eyes, he allowed himself to picture what their worlds would be like if Jean had never been forced into the Raven's Nest. He imagined a Jean who was strong and confident, a man who wasn't a patchwork of physical and mental scars, who was able to take kindness at face value, smiling freely and often. Jeremy saw himself, in short sleeves, skin unmarked, less fragile, capable of facing the world without constantly apologising for his failings, incompetencies, presence. Jeremy grieved. He grieved for the man Jean could have—should have—been. He grieved for himself, as unrealised collateral damage of Jean's suffering. He grieved most for the man he currently held in his arms, still suffering at the hands of a monster already six months dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this chapter really difficult to write, so apologies for it being so slow and I hope you guys enjoyed it. 
> 
> Working full time takes a lot of time and energy so updates have been slow, I think I've (hopefully) fallen into a bit of a rhythm now though!
> 
> Thank you for all the kind and wonderful comments on my last chapter <3 and thanks to everyone who has left kudos as well <3
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://black-cat-iiix.tumblr.com/)


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